Trevor let him sit in silence even though he felt as if he were being quietly and slowly electrocuted.
G.G. breathed in and out, then said in barely more than a whisper, “I didn’t get to shower this morning.”
Still not asking, but Trevor went warm at getting even that much. Really, they barely knew each other, and G.G. was probably as careful as he was for a reason. He didn’t wriggle like Sky. He evaded.
Trevor spoke evenly. “Would you like me to wrap your hand in plastic again so you can take a shower?”
“Yes,” G.G. answered quietly, “please.”
Trevor couldn’t remember a shaky nervousness the first time he had done anything of this nature with Sky, but they’d been friends before they’d ever dated, and they were the same age and of relatively the same experience. He looked away from G.G. and kept his hands steady as he tore several sheets of plastic wrap and readied them.
“Your hand,” was the first thing he said to G.G. after long, heavy moments of his pounding heart and G.G. watching him. G.G. raised his hand and made the smallest sound when Trevor took hold of his wrist. He didn’t have to be told to hold still.
Trevor wasn’t going to lie; he was dizzy with the rush.
But he wrapped G.G.’s hand so not a drop of water could reach a bandage, and said, “Thank you, G.G.,” in a warm voice when G.G. looked up at him. “Making me happy already.”
“I don’t know what I would do with a change in routine,” G.G. admitted immediately, surrendering that to Trevor too. His blush had spread over his acne scars and probably beneath his beard.
Since touching his face seemed like too much, Trevor held tighter to G.G.’s wrist for a moment before brushing a light touch over his skin. Then he let go.
“There’s always the garden,” he reminded G.G., but stepped back again when G.G. lowered his hand. He turned away to take a deep, steadying breath. “Bring a book, whatever. I’ll be at work inside most of the day. My grandma or Ellie might join you, but you don’t even need to knock on the door. That gate doesn’t really have a lock; you just unlatch it.”
G.G. got to his feet with a strange expression on his face, trying to look serious despite his glassy eyes and reddened cheeks. “You should get a lock for it.”
Trevor put the plastic wrap away, met G.G.’s stare, then went to the other counter to empty the paper bag that no longer held much in the way of medical supplies. “We’re not super security conscious about it.”
G.G.’s expression deepened to a real frown. “It’s a matter of liability.”
That made Trevor pause. “You mean with Ellie? She’d never hurt anyone and never even tries to get out.”
“She’s well-behaved and happily spoiled,” G.G. agreed. “But she’s a good-sized dog and bred for hunting, you said.”
“Yeah.” Liability hadn’t occurred to Trevor.Because he was young and dumb, a part of him whispered. Although it was more likely that he just didn’t own a house or have any need to understand things like insurance. “I’ll think about it,” he allowed, because it was probably good advice and because saying it made G.G.’s shoulders ease down a fraction.
G.G.’s family disregarded him and his advice, Trevor remembered, and made another mental note:G.G. had to be allowed to give.
“In the meantime,” he went on, “you’re still welcome. A perpetual invitation exists for you to visit our backyard.” It was a nice idea, actually. Everyone’s worlds had shrunk in the last few years. His world, and G.G.’s world, was mostly this court. And Trevor couldn’t recall ever sitting in the yard to enjoy company that wasn’t family. “That sounds good,” his voice was slightly hoarse so he tried to be playful and breezy and not a desperately lonely, pushy dork. He failed immediately. “Maybe I’ll even send you an invitation. Tea and lemonade in the garden, or something.”
It was ridiculous. Trevor didn’t take it back.
He’d lost all sense and ability to socialize. Was that a date offer? Did doms usually invite potential subs over for tea and lemonade in the garden? He had no idea, but the idea was so verygood, G.G. in his garden.
G.G. inhis grandmother’sgarden, Trevor corrected himself but his brain kept right on going. Sky had been there once, but it hadn’t been partly Trevor’s then. No one had been to Trevor’s garden but family and G.G.
“A tea party,” Trevor said, absolute bullshit coming out of his mouth and making him warm anyway. A tea party for G.G. With Ellie, and flowers, and giving G.G. time to do something different. “But you can bring a book. It’s supposed to be a time for you to enjoy yourself.”
G.G. shut his mouth.
Trevor nodded. “I can sit with you, but we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” A quiet tea party, with coffee, since G.G. preferred that but no one saidcoffee party.
“An invitation?” G.G. repeated.
“In calligraphy, if you prefer,” Trevor said, with a small laugh, although hehaddone some calligraphy in high school. He was going to treat G.G. so well. Whatever else G.G. wanted he could find out in time, maybe. Trevor could help him with at least this.
G.G. inched back. The color had not left his face. He probably flushed all over when aroused, and also probably had red and pink marks for days if he was handled even a little roughly.
Trevor took a deep breath and smiled and did not kiss G.G.orhandle him roughly. He said, “I should leave you to shower,” instead of offering to help him in there, because G.G. wanted him but wasn’t sure yet.
