Perfect Mate (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 8

     Dresden snorted, making him start, and started putting his first aid kit to rights and tossing used cotton into a plastic bag and tossing them in the little garbage bin next to his island. He moved away and there were noises things in his kitchen made as they were manhandled, the only noise the other man made. There was the sudden smell of bleach, sharp and strong even as far as he was, and he looked up. He watched, transfixed, as Dresden moved around and cleaned all trace of blood.

     He had removed his tie and undone the first button of his cotton shirt, cufflinks off with his sleeves shoved halfway up his arms to just below his elbows, and still he managed to look like he’d stepped out the cover of a GQ magazine. The shirt fit his form perfectly, hugging broad shoulders, the hollow of his throat and just a little of that mouth-watering chest on display and those gorgeously tone forearms, the muscles clenching and unclenching with every move he made.

     He was sexy, always had been if Corey was being honest with himself, but the confidence he’d gained over the years certainly helped. The sudden flush of arousal through his body was anything but unexpected, but it was wrong, and he inhaled sharply as his greedy cock filled out in his pants.

     The overwhelming scent of bleach distracted him, though, and he realized it had completely covered the coppery smell of blood. Corey didn’t know whether to be thankful of that or not, because the smell of blood made him a little queasy, but the bleach burning his nostrils wasn’t much of an improvement. How so much more uncomfortable it must be for Dresden’s sharper senses.

     “Does the smell of blood bother you?” the question was out before he could think, and he stilled, though he didn’t take it back. Dresden paused for the shortest second, before washing the bleach down the drain.

     He was silent so long Corey thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he did. “It…excites me,” he said simply.

     Catching his meaning, Corey shivered, but didn’t otherwise move. Eventually, Dresden finished whatever he was still doing, and with noticeable hesitation turned his attention back to Corey. His eyes were back to normal, but something was different about him. They stared at each other, neither of them moving, and Corey figured it out.

     It was subtle, so subtle he probably wouldn’t have noticed if that gaze wasn’t quite so intense on him. His face was still statue perfect, but without the cold edge that had been aimed at him since that day in that conference room with concealed hostility beneath it. Now, his gaze was blank, assessing. It almost made him uncomfortable and probably would have if he’d shown any emotion at all behind the look.

     He was struck with the sudden need to apologize, remembering he hadn’t at the time; he had simply hidden from Dresden in his shame. Not that Dresden had made hiding from him difficult. The need became an itch, he couldn’t seem to let it go, and when the other man didn’t do more than stare, he felt this was as good a time as any.

     Unable to look at his face and say it, he dropped his gaze and took a fortifying breath. “Look, Dresden, I-”

     “You used to call me something else.” Corey’s eyes shot up, going wide in his surprise. Why was he acknowledging it now? Or did he, as Corey felt, realize that this conversation was long in coming?

     “I remember,” he said consciously.

     “You used to call me Denny. And I adored you for it, because you were the only one who ever did,” he continued like Corey hadn’t spoken, those hard blue eyes boring into him.

     “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, trying to ignore the urge to squirm.

     “What for, exactly? For lying to me, or for cheating on me and doing it on my bed, with my roommate.”