Inconvenient

MILO FRETTED over the charcuterie board.

He'd been so excited about it—about the board he'd found in Garth's kitchen made especially for cheese, crackers, and fruit, and about the fancy little knife and the cheese he'd shopped for. Living here with Garth had been, well, amazing .

For one thing he'd gotten to know Garth so much better. His "dog-walking buddy" was a little grumpy in the mornings but perked up with his first cup of coffee. On one of Milo's trips to his neglected duplex for sundries, he pulled his french roast from the freezer and brought it over to brew in the mornings. Garth perked up even more. Garth was clean without being fastidious. He kept his work clothes and home clothes separate and usually took his boots off at the front door.

Very often he found Milo working at the kitchen table or cooking, kissed him on the cheek, and then went on to wash up. Their evenings were almost like evenings with Mari, including cuddling on the couch but, well… different.

Milo was aware—so very aware—of a warm, strong male body beneath his as they stretched out on the couch. He'd think, "Tonight. Tonight I'll keep kissing him in the hall and follow him to bed. Julia will have to sleep in her crate tonight. It's fine."

But they'd get to the hall, and the kissing would begin, Garth's warm mouth on his, the comfort of the evening seeping into his bones, and all those… thoughts, memories, would start buzzing around his head.

Jesus, Milo, I don't need you to like it. Just stop wiggling.

You know, if you had a bigger dick, mine wouldn't scare you so much. It's fine.

Oh, now you want sex—what a big old slutbag!

And while Milo was smart enough to try to evade those words, other words would show up, like, say, from his first college boyfriend.

Jesus, Milo, you're so fucking needy.

Or from his mother, who had no business in his head.

Milo, just shut up and deal with it. Your stepdad and I need you to not be a pain in the ass.

No, you aren't gay! Stop trying to get attention!

Fine, I don't care if you are gay—nobody needs to hear about your drama.

All of it, like flies, or worse, like wasps circling around his head until the one part of him geared for self-defense pulled a Julia-with-the-turkeys and barked at everything to get the thoughts away.

Which was when Milo shut down, stepped back, and slid into his own bedroom to hold his dog and shake until he could remember himself again.

And apparently by slapping away the thoughts, he'd slapped away Garth , and Milo was reminded, once again, of the consequences of letting a chunky, muscular id have its way with flocks of things that could be dealt with using some tenderness and common sense.

Carefully, he took a deep breath and started on the cheese board again. Julia had showed him how to deal with his problems in the worst possible way, but she was a dog. A good dog who deserved love and praise and lots of squeakies and some treats, but still a dog.

Milo was a person. He needed to find a better way.

"THE CHEESE board is great," Garth said softly as they sat at the table and snacked. "And the casserole smells wonderful. Did you get some work done today?"

Milo smiled a little and nodded. "Angela says hi," he said, recalling his Zoom conference. He'd taken Julia to work three times since he'd moved into Garth's house for the interim and had been warmed at how showing up at work with a dog as a security blanket seemed to make even his Zoom conferences more personal as well as more productive. "She wanted to thank you for watching out for me. Apparently weird, stalky ex-boyfriends scare everybody ."

Garth nodded, obviously troubled. "The police have served his restraining order, and so far, the security system hasn't picked him up again since we, uhm, sent him our very clear message."

Milo couldn't help it; he snickered because the idea of Garth and Doug dropping trou and wiggling their asses was so much fun . He couldn't explain it. When he tried to make a statement, he hurt people. But the delivery of two pressed hams to Milo's ex didn't feel like a bad thing in the least.

"As soon as you're tired of me, I guess I can move back into my duplex," he said, but he didn't feel very enthusiastic.

"I'm not tired of you," Garth told him, sounding sincere. "I just… I don't know if you really want me, Milo. I mean, I swooped down to rescue you and, I don't know, I wanted to kiss you so badly. Maybe I should have waited. It's fine if you want to stay friends without kissing. I… I need to know, I guess. So I stop hoping for more."

Milo stared at him in mute horror, his breath coming in fast pants from his chest. "No," he managed. "No."

"No what?" Garth asked—but not unkindly.

And it seemed that all Milo had was Julia's example, because what he blurted next was almost a strike. "Don't give up on me!"

Garth rocked back in his chair a little, and Milo realized he'd probably shouted. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Unexpectedly, Garth leaned forward and reached out to cover Milo's hand. "Okay," he said. "I won't give up on you. But maybe… maybe we should slow it down a little."

"No," Milo said, shaking his head. "No. I like the kisses. I love the kisses—"

Garth squeezed, and he stopped talking. "Then we won't stop. But we will get you moved back into your duplex. You can have some independence. Some breathing room. I'll come over for dinner some nights. You do the same here. You know, like two people dating. Not like a marriage of convenience. What do you think?"

Milo took a breath. And then another. "Okay," he said softly. "That would be good. We can date." He felt a smile flicker across his face. "But we can still cuddle on the couch, okay?"

"Sure," Garth said, nodding. "Sounds great. Just… just when I kiss you tonight, I want you to think about why you stiffen up. Why you stop. And you don't have to tell me. Not tonight. But, you know, maybe think about the words to tell me what's wrong. I get it if it's too soon after Stuart—"

Milo shook his head violently, suddenly angry to the point of tears. "I hate him," he whispered. "I hate him. I thought I loved him, but I hate that he's in my head still. It's not fair. I finally… finally meet a guy who's worth taking space in my mind, and I've got two years of Stuart in there, and he's screwing everything up!"

Garth swallowed. "Milo, look. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe the problem was that you were still grieving the relationship when I came along. Maybe we shouldn't be kissing—"

"Please," Milo whispered. "Please don't give up on me."

Garth nodded. "You keep saying that. Not kissing doesn't mean I've given up. I just need you to be comfortable with what we're doing."

"I am!" Milo squeaked. "I swear I am. Don't send me away!" He heard his voice and hated it and tried again. "I swear I'll do better, I swear!"

And suddenly Garth wasn't sitting across from him anymore. He was kneeling at Milo's feet, holding his hands. "Baby," he said softly, "you are doing great. I think you are doing the best you can. It's me who needs to do better. You're not ready for sex. You're not ready to live with anybody else. I should have seen that when you came here. I should have kissed you at your doorway and let you go. I should never have pressured you. It's my fault, do you understand?"

"You didn't pressure me," Milo whispered. Garth's eyes were bright and shiny, and Milo wanted to make it better. "You didn't. I wanted to keep you in my life, but I've got all these other voices in my head, and every time I swat them away, I swat you away too, and I don't want to hurt you, and―"

"Shh…." Garth kept rubbing his hands. "You're only going to hurt me if you don't tell me what's going on. What are you hearing in your head?"

"All the people telling me what a wreck I am," Milo confessed. "My college boyfriend, my parents, Stuart…. It-it's a mess in there."

Surprisingly enough, Garth chuckled. "I can hear that. Okay, then. Okay. I know what we're dealing with now. Don't worry. I like you in my life, Milo. I can be patient. Let's get you back in your house so seeing me is on your terms. Let's make a rule that the kissing needs to stop at the bedroom door, and that way you don't feel bad when it does. Let's slow this all down, okay? We've got stalky ex-boyfriends, and you've got voices in your head. You're cute, I like you, I can wait as long as you need."

Milo nodded and realized he could breathe again. "You really think I'm cute?" he said. Nobody had ever told him that. Stuart had always said, "You're okay, but I'll stay."

"God yeah." Garth reached up and brushed the bangs from his forehead. "I thought so that first day. If you're hearing voices that say you're not good-looking enough, tell them I said to shut up, okay?"

Milo nodded. "Okay," he said, and some of the clamor in the back of his head chilled out. "I can do that."

"Good." Garth stood heavily to his feet as the casserole timer went off. "How about you go clean up, and I'll dish us up some food. Let's eat in front of the TV, okay? The cheeseboard was a nice idea, but I think we can take a break from the heartfelt conversation, don't you?"

That night, as Milo leaned against him, Garth's arm over his shoulder, Chad and Julia at their feet, he felt a singular lightness. They would kiss—hurray! And then Milo would go to his room, and it would be his room, and he wouldn't have to make the terrible decision to share his body when he wasn't sure he was ready.

During a commercial break, without knowing he was going to do it, he reached out and paused the television.

"It hurt a lot," Milo said. "Sex, I mean. And Stuart said it was my fault it hurt, but I suspect it was because he didn't care. He only wanted me to stop moving so he could do what he needed to do. So part of me is really excited about kissing you and touching you and having sex. But part of me is afraid it'll be like it was with Stuart, and then you'll tell me it's my fault somehow for being bad at it. Or worse, when I like it and it all seems to be going well, that I'm… bad somehow, slutty or depraved, because I'm excited about it. And yes, I know I'm not, but I think if I heard your voice telling me those things, when… when you seem so much better than Stuart, I think it would break me."

Milo let out a breath then, aware that he'd said more on this subject during a commercial break than he'd said during his entire relationship with Stuart, and he'd done it because he'd been given the freedom to walk away. How weird was that? It was exactly the opposite of Julia, he supposed. Julia needed to be told what to do or sent to her crate, but then Julia was a dog , and Milo was a human, and the more Milo remembered that, apparently the better he got at being one.

Garth made a suspicious noise above him, and Milo glanced up and saw him wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He tried to scramble into an upright position, but Garth shook his head and just held him—held him and cried.

"What's wrong?" Milo asked in a small voice.

"I hate that he hurt you," Garth said gruffly. "I hate that he hurt you. And I'm so glad you're here. I don't want him to ever hurt you again. And I'd die before I did the same. Thank you. Now I know what I'm working with."

"A complete and utter disaster," Milo supplied glumly.

Garth shook his head and turned to kiss his forehead. "A really amazing guy who's got some damage. I mean, my job is all about fixing damage. It's always worth it. There's always so much beauty inside."

And now Milo was the one who was making suspicious snorfling noises against Garth's side.

"Baby?" Garth asked.

"You think I'm beautiful," Milo whispered, and that was all he could manage. Garth just kept holding him while he cried.

EVENTUALLY THEY finished their murder show and got creakily up to turn off the lights and get ready for bed. Milo was exhausted , his head aching from his cry, his thoughts skittering away when he tried to rope them in. Emotions were exhausting ; he should remember that.

Garth seemed to remember for the both of them, because when he paused in front of Milo's bedroom door, he said, "One quick kiss, okay? So you remember you're cared for. So you remember you're wanted. Then all the freedom in the world."

Milo nodded, not sure in his heart what that meant, but then Garth's mouth was on his own briefly, warmly, and Milo responded. Garth swept his tongue in and retreated, then kissed Milo on the forehead, and Milo's breath caught.

Freedom. And all he wanted with it was more.

But Garth turned him toward his door and said, "Remember, leave the door cracked so Julia can go outside. Good night, Milo."

"Good night," Milo whispered and did what Garth told him.

As he undressed and then brushed his teeth and washed his face, he felt a blessed numb exhaustion steal over him, protecting him from the big scary emotions.

But an ember of warmth had made its way into his chest with that kiss, and that kept beating warmly.

Oh , he kept thinking.

Oh.

A WEEK LATER, Garth helped him move his few belongings back into his duplex after dinner, and Milo wandered around, remembering how much he'd loved decorating it and how much Stuart had hated what he'd done.

As Garth brought the last of Julia's gear in and set it up in the kitchen, Milo had a sudden frisson of fear.

"You'll come back, right?" he asked, his voice pitching.

"Well, we'll meet tomorrow to walk the dogs," Garth said, but his smile was troubled, and Milo suddenly understood. He was worried too.

"You'll come for dinner tomorrow?" Milo begged. "You have to. We have to plan."

Garth's lips twitched, and his smile lost some of its trouble. "Plan what?"

"Thanksgiving," Milo said soberly. "I'm hosting, but you're coming, and Mari and her new boyfriend. And Doug if you want to ask him, but he's got a wife and kids, so probably not."

Garth shook his head. "Nope, Doug's going to his in-laws, and most of my other friends are doing family. My mom and dad are making noises about coming up—"

"They could come!" Milo said, knowing it was rash but not caring. "I"—his voice dropped—"I know I'm not an official boyfriend yet. But I'm an official friend, right?"

All of the trouble was gone now. Garth stepped into his space and lifted his chin. "Definitely an official friend," he rumbled. "A very special official friend. And I'll pass on the invite, and I'd love to come over tomorrow for dinner."

That ember that Garth had planted in Milo's chest the evening of their talk about what Milo needed and what Garth needed to give him, that ember lit up again, warmer and brighter.

"It's a date," he said, nodding. "An official date. With kissing afterward."

Garth's smile crinkled the corners of his eyes now, and Milo realized that was the best kind of smile, and he understood the appeal of laugh lines now like he hadn't when he'd been in high school and all the K-Pop boy bands had been the ultimate in ab-lick-able.

"With kissing afterwards," Garth promised.

"Can we kiss now?" Milo asked cannily. "To seal the deal, right?

"Yeah," Garth murmured. "I thought you'd never ask."

This kiss lasted longer than the kisses at Garth's house had, and Milo didn't mind. He was in his place now, his space, his floor, his walls, his art. And Garth liked those things about him and didn't tell him to change and had made sure this place was safe for Milo .

So Milo could let Garth around those places and around his body and much more freely around Milo's heart.

In fact, so much more freely, Garth was panting and sweating a little when he finally pulled away, and Milo realized that his groin actually ached , and he wanted badly , and the person he wanted was going to walk away and leave him, and this whole moving-out prospect seemed like a bad deal all around.

He made a sound, small and sad, and Garth pulled him close and kissed his forehead again.

"Milo, when you're ready, I will stay—or you will stay at my place—and we will finish all the kisses. We will undress, and touch each other's bare skin, and I will touch you so tenderly it'll make you cry, and then it will make you come, and I'll do it all over again until your body remembers nothing but how good it feels to be with me. That's a promise. I want your body, I do. So much. But I want your heart and your mind too. Can you wait? Wait until all the things agree?"

They do! They do! I swear they do!

God, Milo, beg for it why don't you. Jesus, how easy are you?

Goddammit.

Milo nodded miserably and, without meaning to, arched against Garth's thigh, whimpering when his erection ached more.

Garth's gruff chuckle was oddly reassuring, and he took Milo's hand and pressed it against the placket of his jeans. "Same," he said.

"But… but what are we supposed to do?" Milo groaned.

Garth whispered the next part in his ear, his voice rough and needy and explicit.

So explicit. Milo's mouth went dry, and he realized he'd started to dry hump Garth's legs like an alley cat when Garth cleared his throat and stepped back.

"Really?" Milo asked. "You want me to do that?"

"When you're done," Garth said soberly. "Text me tomorrow and tell me every detail."

Milo's mouth dropped open and heat swept up his body, and his cock leaked just a little on his underwear, leaving a cool damp spot under his jeans.

"That's more intimate than sex!" he squeaked.

Garth's smile was slow and sultry and did nothing to ease Milo's discomfort.

"God, I hope not," he murmured. He darted forward to give Milo a quick kiss on the cheek. "Call me later," he said. "See you tomorrow."

He left, leaving Milo alone in his house.

Alone to shower, to get naked and clean, to kick the dog off the bed, and to… to… could he do it?

He shuddered. There was nobody here. Nobody watching. Only him and Julia, and Julia was pretty discreet.

He and Mari had come in two days ago to air the place out and vacuum and dust, and his sheets were clean, and his comforter was the autumn-themed one Mari had given him two years ago.

Nobody had to know.

The freedom was almost as arousing as Garth's touch had been—but only almost.

BUT FIRST there was the moving back into his home, the sitting on the couch and manning his own remote control. He let Julia out and then threw her the squeaky numerous times and realized they'd not done this as much at Garth's house because Chad had been there and dog politics had taken precedent. Why chase the squeaky when making sure she, Julia, was getting more attention from Milo at any given moment was the goal?

Milo and Garth had continued to walk the dogs in the morning, and Milo took her on her own special loop while Garth was throwing the ball for Chad, but Milo realized now he should have been throwing her the squeaky too.

There were parts of living by himself that he needed to keep, he realized. He threw the squeaky down the hallway, angling it so it bounced off the wall and ended up in his office, and then listened for the scrabbling of her toenails as she changed directions and charged into the room. He heard her snuffling about, and then she came trotting back, her ears out in the crooked-airplane-wing formation with a totally different squeaky, one that had been here at the house while they'd been staying at Garth's, held proudly in her jaws.

Milo took it from her and rubbed her rump. "Okay," he said, taking the hint. "I get it. Garth is good, and you're starting to even like Chad, but it needs to be just you and me for a little while too."

He took the squeaky from her, and she wrestled him playfully for it, finally letting him win, and he threw it again and watched it go.

When she came back this time, she simply dropped it on the ground, then hopped up on the couch and stared at the television, which he'd paused on his favorite murder show. None-too-subtly she nudged his hand, and he hit the remote to play, then glanced back at her. She'd rolled over to her back, and he rubbed her tummy, laughing a little at her blissed-out expression, head lolled back, mouth parted ever so slightly in a smile.

She was a good companion, he realized. She'd made him stand up for himself at work, and she'd made him think about his actions, and now she was making him realize that the life he had, here in his own home, was not such a bad life after all.

He still missed Garth, but he also enjoyed the kind of night by himself he used to take for granted.

"Good girl," he said softly. "Good girl!"

AFTER TELEVISION, he took a shower and, feeling like a naughty kid, wore the towel to his bedroom instead of putting on his pajamas in the bathroom.

The air on his bare body made him shiver, but it also hit a spot… a sort of sensuous spot in his psyche. Stuart hadn't believed in being naked. You took off just enough clothes to have sex, and then you put them on again when it was done and you'd washed up.

Douchey college boyfriend had pretty much left before the jizz cooled.

In between the two, Milo had lived alone in this duplex and only masturbated when the loneliness got too much, and then it had been in his bed, with the lights off, under the covers, with nobody the wiser.

Garth would be the wiser.

Not that Milo would tell him anything he didn't want to, but Garth…. Garth wanted to know. So there was a naughtiness here, but there was also a freedom.

Nobody was going to condemn him for doing grown folks' business when there was nobody here to see.

So nobody saw him running to his room, because it was his room. And as he got there and glanced around, he realized it really was his room. Stuart had never decorated there. Milo had bought the furniture and bedding when he'd gotten the duplex—it had been his treat to himself when his trust had matured. The same with the living room. Stuart had complained about Milo's stuff, but except for the art, he'd never made any attempts to make the space theirs instead of Milo's.

So as Milo stood in his bedroom naked, he realized that he had ownership there. He had the right to be naked in his own bedroom.

The absolute power made him hard before he even thought of sex.

He pulled the covers back on his bed and gave Julia a stern, "Down, girl."

Her airplane ears went flat, as though he must have been mistaken, and then they drooped a little, and he pointed toward the door and said, "Crate."

With a little sigh, she curled up on the bed he'd put for her in the corner, and he figured that was a good compromise. And then, oddly enough, once she was situated, he was… alone.

He lay down on the bed and enjoyed the feeling of being clean and air dried and… alone. He wondered what he should think about when he did this, and while at first his thoughts went to Garth's kisses, those didn't make him feel sexy—they made him wistful. Suddenly he wanted to share this naked aloneness with Garth, and a little thrill danced through him as he realized that was want , and yearning .

He'd only ever felt these things—fleetingly—when he was being kissed or felt up, and he'd thought there was something lacking in himself that he didn't dwell on physical intimacy.

Now he wanted it. He craved it. And the freedom to want, the room to crave, that aroused him. He moved his hand to his cock and was surprised to find it had grown, was aching and hard, and suddenly he didn't need to think about sex, although the thought of Garth's hand over his own hand made him gasp. Suddenly the moment was all about sensation , and his cock was hard , and he was stroking it , and it felt better, aching, and his nipples tingled. He moved a hand up to pinch them, and that was exciting, and oh my God, his body was amazing ! Look what it could do! He was panting, making little whimpers of excitement as he tightened his fist over his cock and pinched his nipples and then, oh wow! He propped his feet up on the bed and exposed himself to the air, and just that, the touch of the air on his cracks and crevices, it was barely enough, and then it was more than enough, and he let out a wordless cry as he convulsed on the bed and came.

And came.

And came and came and came.

With a happy little moan, he rolled to his side and squeezed the last of the fluid from his cock while pulling his covers up to his chin at the same time. A hoarse little voice in the back of his head whispered that somebody would be mad if he didn't wipe up the jizz, and then he reminded himself that he was the only one home, and he could wash his sheets whenever he pleased.

The lights were still on, but he was happy and floaty, and he left them on as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Eventually he'd get up and wipe down the sheets, put on his underwear, turn off the lights, and invite Julia to come lie down next to him, but for a little bit, the first hour, he dreamed about telling Garth and hearing Garth's warm, rumbly voice telling him he did okay.