The last time Trevor had seen G.G. had been at G.G.’s front door the evening before. Trevor had been encouraging G.G. to eat dinner while stepping onto the porch to make his way home. G.G. had still been fuzzy around the edges, clinging to Trevor but trying not to, frowning and glancing away as if embarrassed at himself for being so needy even though he’d gone without what he wanted for years. Trevor hurt even trying to imagine an ache like that. So he’d given in with barely a struggle, swooping back in to press G.G. to the doorjamb and hopefully out of sight of the rest of the court before tipping G.G.’s head up for a lingering kiss.
Not his best idea, in retrospect. G.G. needed more than some kisses, hot though they had been. Trevor might have made things worse for him.
That occurred to him, way too late, when G.G. answered the door.
G.G. was cleaned and in crisp clothes, and had even trimmed his beard closer to his face, although it probably wasn’t as neat as he would have liked.
Miss Delilah was behind him, uninterested in an outside world she had likely never visited, strolling toward the kitchen as if Trevor’s arrival now meantdinnertimeto her.
Also behind G.G. was one of those floor dusters and a vacuum cleaner. Trevor supposed floors could be cleaned with one hand but that really didn’t feel like a task that needed to get done all that urgently. G.G.’s house had already been tidy.
Then Trevor noticed a box of dusting wipes sitting at the foot of the stairs, and looked back at a far too bright-eyed yet exhausted G.G. and said, “I didn’t mean to wind you up more, baby, I’m so sorry,” and stepped into the house while G.G. was moving to let him in.
Trevor had been at least slightly worried that G.G. had changed his mind or would think he’d revealed too much, and would accept the food but scuttle back into his house forever.
That was obviously not the case.
Trevor shoved the door closed with his shoulder and then bent his head to stop G.G.’s anxious vibrating with a kiss. G.G. tasted faintly of coffee, which couldn’t have helped him calm down. The physical release yesterday had not been enough, and Trevor couldn’t even pet him now because his hands were full.
“Ssh,” Trevor whispered, giving G.G. a softer kiss and urging him back until he bumped into the wall.
G.G.’s eyes met his. “Brian. Please. I… please.”
No one could have denied him. Trevor couldn’t have even if he hadn’t partly caused this.
“Brian?” he echoed anyway, watching G.G. closely. G.G. was so desperate that he was tossing out the term Sky used.
“I handled it,” G.G. insisted, breaking Trevor’s heart. “I had it handled. For years I did. Even though you were there and I thought you could take it. Could take over. I wanted you to. It’s been years of only me, of me handling it, handling everything, taking care of it all. Please. I can’t. Please, Brian.”
“Okay.” Trevor couldn’t let him go on. “Okay. I’ll take care of you, baby. But notBrian. Not for you. You don’t need it.Trevorto start with, until you feel comfortable with anything else you might want to call me. Now breathe for me. Real slow. Let me see.”
G.G. shuddered on the exhale.
“So good. Thank you.” Trevor held G.G.’s gaze, breathing with him until he thought G.G. was steadier. “Take a moment. Trust that I will help you, and breathe, and tell me what you do all day when you aren’t building things? Read?”
The line between G.G.’s eyebrows came and went. G.G. opened his mouth, said nothing, then closed it to swallow.
Trevor hardened his voice. “I asked you a question.”
G.G. melted against the wall and blinked slowly several times. “I read.” Once he started, the words fell from him in one long, sweetly accommodating whisper. “Mostly on the couch so I can look out onto the street. I make plans for what I want to do and research what I’ll need. Household things, cleaning. The cats—cat needs time. I do puzzles, sometimes.”
“Puzzles?” Trevor so surprised and delighted he dropped a kiss on G.G.’s nose to G.G.’s soft confusion. “Excellent answer. You’re already so ready for this, baby. Puzzles?” Trevor couldn’t get over it. G.G. probably did them on that dining room table. “You’ll have to show me later.”
But for now, thoughts of the dining room table reminded him of the food he was still fucking carrying.
“Stay here,” he ordered, reasonably confident that G.G. would obey, and left him to go put all the crap he’d brought with him on the table. He was back in seconds. Some of the tension had returned to G.G.’s shoulders, but Trevor got to pet him at last. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave again.” He stroked one of G.G.’s cheeks, the side of his neck, using his other hand to hold G.G. still for another series of slow kisses to help force G.G.’s breathing to even out. He slid his hands down to G.G.’s wrists and kept his grip on them tight.
G.G. made a hoarse sound but then went quiet. His color was high. He stared at Trevor, still needy but trying so hard. “Trevor.”
“Who wouldn’t want to take care of you, pretty?” Something deep and forceful burned through Trevor at G.G.’s shock, something like irritation that no one else had called G.G. pretty in these moments but also something like pleasure. The pleasure won. Only Trevor, then.
Trevor tightened his hold on G.G.’s wrists while he considered what to do. It couldn’t be anything too serious; he had no idea about G.G.’s limits, for one thing. And he didn’t have plans for G.G. yet. But G.G. had plans, or at least, fantasies.
“Poor starving G.G.,” Trevor murmured, then released him.
G.G.’s eyes went wide. His mouth fell open, possibly to protest or argue.
Trevor raised his eyebrows and G.G. seemed to stutter over words he hadn’t said. His eyes stayed wide but he didn’t speak.
