28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Christian

“W-what?” Emil says, gaze pinging from me to the camera and back.

“I can’t do this,” I repeat, not giving a shit about the cameras or the people watching or anyone but Specs, who dropped a big fat I love you and then proceeded to run away from me as quickly as humanly possible, as if expecting me to break his beautiful heart.

As if I would ever.

“Ch—Vixen,” he says, saving his slip at the last moment.

I shake my head, swinging myself toward Emil as he blinks big eyes my way. “No. I’m not okay to do a scene right now, Specs, because I can’t handle my boyfriend thinking he’s the only one.”

His mouth pops open, and I lean closer, threading my fingers through his hair and holding tight so he can’t keep running away.

“You’re going to listen to me now. Just stop and listen, okay?”

Emil nods in my grip.

“I can’t stand the thought of my boyfriend believing I don’t love him, too,” I say clearly, making sure he hears every word. “Not for one more minute. Not for five. And certainly not for sixty while we put on a show. Of course I love you, Specs. And I thought that would be scary, but it’s not.”

“No?” he asks quietly, his voice barely there.

“No,” I say, my lips curving into a smile. “It’s wonderful and fucking good, and you make everything better. My goddamn midbrain lights up when I’m around you. So stop assuming the worst and just…just kiss me, okay? Because I love you—I love you —and the whole world can know for all I care.”

“You…you love me?”

My laugh is pained. “Yeah, I love you. Were you lying when you said you love me, too? Because, if not, I think I deserve a ki—”

Emil’s lips cut off my remark, and I let out a whimper, tugging him in tight, trying my very best to fuse our lips together. The pain that was twisting tight in my chest ever since Emil fled into the shower stall finally unfurls, bringing with it that same swoop of joy I felt when Emil first uttered those words, “ I fucking love you. ” My gorgeous kinky neighbor. My shy exhibitionist. My remarkable boyfriend with the big brain and the even bigger heart.

“Fuck, I love you,” I mumble against his mouth.

His sound is equal parts happiness and aching relief. “You do.”

Another laugh. “Yes, I do.”

“I do, too,” he says, his hands shaking against the sides of my neck.

“Yeah, I kinda got that,” I mutter affectionately.

He huffs a laugh between kisses. “God, Christian, the tutu is hot.”

“There he is,” I say, kissing one corner of his mouth and then the other. “You back with me, Specs?”

“Sorry I jumped into the shower with all my clothes on,” he mutters against my lips.

I nearly snort. “Uh-huh.”

“I was scared.”

I let out a breath, tucking my face against his neck and hugging him tight. “I know. You don’t have to be.”

“I know that. I do,” he says just as quietly. “It’s just… I’m still a work in progress, okay? I might fuck up sometimes.”

I lean back enough to catch his eye. “I think you’re lovely.”

Emil’s gaze pings between my eyes, so very soft, a little trepidatious in a way I think comes from years of falling by the wayside. Of feeling unseen and, by extension, unloved. “Don’t give up on me,” he says, almost too quietly for me to hear.

“Never,” I promise.

He lets out a breath, eyes closing. But then his entire body stiffens. “Oh my God,” he mumbles. “Oh…my God. Are we… Are we still filming?”

A throat clears nearby, and Emil’s eyes pinch further shut.

I bite my lip before looking to the side. The entire crew is standing silent, watching us. The light on the camera is off, but I’m guessing at least part of that was caught before they shut it down. Maybe I should feel a little more apologetic, but I can’t quite find it in me to care.

“No,” I say gently, giving the side of Emil’s neck a squeeze. “We’re not filming.”

He winces, looking pained.

“Gentlemen,” Jerome drawls. Emil finally opens his eyes, although it looks as if it takes considerable effort to do so. “If I didn’t have a chat room full of viewers practically creaming themselves for the chance to watch two boyfriends in love getting it on in my studio, we’d be having words right about now.”

“Sorry, Jerome,” Emil mutters, his voice quiet but carrying in the otherwise silent room.

Jerome raises a brow, arms crossed, but I swear he doesn’t actually look upset. “I’ll send you the clip for your wedding. That’s twice now. Videographer fees can be forwarded to Nathaniel.” I’m fairly certain he’s joking, but he goes on quickly. “We’re done for today. Can I tell your avid fans you’ll be back next week?”

I glance at Emil, who blushes but nods.

Grabbing his hand, I say, “Yeah. We’re on for next week.”

“Beautiful,” Jerome says dryly. As he turns to walk away, he mutters, “First Dix and Adonis, and now this. Nate,” he practically barks. Nathaniel heads his way. “Tell me why we spent so much effort on producing fake boyfriend videos last year? Maybe we should get some real couples in here. People eat this shit up.”

Jerome’s voice fades as he and Nathaniel head out of the studio. Once the door closes behind them, the rest of the crew snaps to, conversation starting up again as our coworkers begin disassembling the set.

Marco gives us a grin, his boom resting against the floor. “Super cute, you two. Congrats.”

I huff a laugh as Emil nudges his glasses up his nose. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

Marco heads off, joining the others, and I give Emil’s shoulder a bump with my own. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Please,” he whispers, practically falling against my chest. He tucks his face away, voice muffled. “Let’s go home and just hide away for a couple years, okay? If Alex calls, don’t answer. He’ll never let us live this down.”

I snort. “I dunno. I kind of liked it, Specs. Telling everyone I love my cute-as-heck boyfriend on a live stream? I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” he asks, lifting his head.

“Mhm. Maybe next time, I can fuck him, too.”

Emil’s breath catches.

“Because I know how much he loves being railedwhile everyone watches,” I say quietly, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Loves being on display, dick hard and chest flushed with arousal. Loves squirming and begging and showing off how gorgeous he is. How honest. How real and utterly captivating. And I love it, too.”

“Shit, Christian,” he mutters, shaking his head. But his eyes are soft, like maybe those words were exactly what he needed to hear. “Take me home.”

“Yeah, Specs. Let’s go.”

“Do you think they’re talking to one another?” I ask Emil as we lie on my bed, the pet cam open on his phone.

We started out at his apartment after coming home from the studio, but after Emil shoved his pants down, presented his ass, told me to fucking wreck him already —and, of course, I did—we migrated over here. I wanted to get a little work done on my skirt for the awards ceremony. It’s nearly ready.

Now, we’re lying on my mattress, legs tangled, Emil snacking on chips while we keep an eye on his crabs. They’re close to each other, not touching but moving around.

“That’s how they talk, right?” I ask. “By rubbing their legs together?”

Emil hums, finishing his chip before answering. “They do. It doesn’t look aggressive, does it?”

I huff a laugh. “No. That’d be more…” I brandish my fist in the air. “Right?”

This time, it’s Emil chuckling. “I wonder what they’re saying.”

“ I like your shell ,” I say with a high voice that’s meant to imitate a crab. “ Thanks, I like your claw. So big.”

Emil snorts. “You’re such a dork.”

“I think that’s you.”

“Then we’re both dorks,” he counters.

“Fine by me.”

Emil looks at me a little sheepishly. “I, uh… I named him.”

I jolt, and he startles in turn. “You did? You named the new crab?”

He nods, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Well, shit, Specs. I’m waiting on pins and needles over here. What’d you name Arthur’s new buddy?”

His lips twist a little, and he fidgets with his glasses. “Hermin.”

It takes me a second. “Hermin the hermit crab?”

“Mhm.”

Jesus Christ , this man will be the death of me. “That’s the fucking cutest, Specs. Okay, what’s the rest of it? I know you have more.”

He presses his lips together before saying, “Do I have to?”

“Uh-huh. Spill.”

Emil lets out a sigh, but the corners of his mouth are upturned when he mumbles, “His Highness, Hermin Park the Gentle, Swimmer of Seas and Friend to All.”

My heart starts to pound as Emil returns his gaze to the pet cam. My voice barely cooperatesenough to say, “You named him after my grandma?”

Emil’s gaze flits to mine, and he shuts off his phone before straddling my lap. He tucks his head under my chin, hiding his face away. “I named him after her and you. You’re a Park, too. And one of the best people I know. It only seemed fitting to give him your name. He’s just like you, after all.”

“He is?” I ask, running my palms over Emil’s back. My chest feels tight beneath his cheek.

He nods against me. “Mhm. He won over the prickly, guarded Arthur. Just like…”

He trails off, but I know what he was going to say.

“You’re not that prickly,” I point out.

Emil huffs.

“Specs,” I say around a laugh. “You’re draped over me like a sweater right now. How would you call that prickly?”

He pokes the side of my stomach, and I laugh.

“Shut up and cuddle me,” he mutters.

I squeeze him tighter and kiss the top of his head. “My prickly, guarded nerd. Thank you for trusting me.”

His back lifts and then lowers beneath my palms, his breath leaving him gently. “You made it easy.”

“That so? Was it because you thought I was an eighty-year-old grandma?”

He groans. “You’re still on that?”

“I’ll never forget. The things you showed me, Specs.”

He buries his face against my chest, upsetting his glasses. “ Stop .”

“I mean, one time you suctioned a dildo to your headboard and rode it so hard you came hands free, remember?”

“I remember,” he mumbles.

“Fuck, that was hot. Would you do that again for me sometime?”

“Only if you wear that tutu the next time we…”

He cuts off, and I crane my neck, looking down at the top of his head. “The next time we what?”

He groans a little before turning his face to the side and saying, “I want you to fuck me in the tutu, okay?”

My grin is swift. “Anytime you want, Specs.”

“Thank you,” he mutters. “Now shush so I can fall asleep on your chest. I have class in the morning.”

“I have to pee first.”

He groans, an exaggerated sound, but then he gets up and follows me into the bathroom so he can brush his teeth. Back in bed, he all but manhandles me into the same position I was in. Then he sets his glasses on the nightstand and crawls over me.

“You’re addicted to cuddles now, aren’t you?” I tease, enjoying the weight and warmth of him.

“You’ve changed me,” he says, voice soft. In the dark, I can’t see his expression, but it doesn’t sound like a bad thing.

I remember Emil telling me once how it was easier not to expect good things than to come to rely on them only to be disappointed. The absence hurts worse. Convincing ourselves we don’t need affection and love is easier. Or, at the very least, it numbs the pain.

I understand that. Emil and I had different upbringings, but in some ways, they were the same. We both did our best to accept the small space we occupied amidst our loved ones. We tried not to let it hurt.

The fact that Specs isn’t afraid of me hurting him is nothing short of miraculous. It’s as big and bright as that confession he let slip in the locker room. It’s love, and it’s trust, and it makes me want to hold on so tight Emil will always know what it feels like to be loved in return. He won’t ever have to guess. He won’t ever feel unseen or unheard or unloved.

I used to be scared of this. Terrified. But even if, someday, I lose this man with his cheek pressed to my heart, I won’t ever regret loving him. I couldn’t.

And I think that’s maybe most miraculous of all.

“You’ve changed me, too, Specs,” I say into the quiet stillness of the night. Emil doesn’t respond, but his chest rises and falls steadily against me. “And I’m so grateful that you did.”