Devoted - Merritt's Story 2 - Chapter 16 (+schedule updates)

It's here!  It's here at last!  I'm expecting to be able to post regular updates for Merritt's Story for the foreseeable future.  There will be some other delays, however:

I mentioned at the start of the month that moving and health issues could get in the way of productivity this month.  My health should hopefully be in the clear for the next ~21 days, though I did lose a handful of workdays in October.  The main issue is the move.  All the prep is done, and I'm now in the midst of packing.

The October Secret Gallery art and the email Pen Pal letters will go out over the next 2-4 days.  Snail mail letters will be sent after November 6 because my computer has already moved to the new location but my printer hasn't.  But I'll post the letter to the $5 feed for anyone who doesn't want to wait to read it.

DOTU pages will also be delayed as I'm working the next scene assembly line style, but I'll make up for it with more than the allotted bonus pages in November and December!

And now, on to the Merritt's Story!  You can read it inline or download the attached PDF.

[Table of Contents]

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Book 2, Chapter 16

After browsing for an hour on NorthMD, the North Sphere’s most popular website for self-diagnosis of medical conditions, Merritt could come up with only two possible explanations for his racing heartbeat, inability to concentrate, and the perpetual buzzing in his head. Either he’d been poisoned and was dying… or he was an idiot in love.

A double dose of Focus was barely enough to keep his daydreaming to a minimum as he sat beside Belmont at Monday’s board meeting, his brain like a sieve, losing half the words he heard spoken. Belmont was no help. During a lull in the meeting, he reached under the table, grabbed Merritt’s hand, and gave it a secret squeeze before withdrawing. How in the world was Merritt supposed to concentrate on poisons budgets after that? The last time he’d felt that kind of connection was at the orphanage cafeteria, sitting next to Torrence and holding hands under the table with a surreptitious glance and smile.

There was an old joke in the underground about blue-ties. People from other spheres liked to say that the North’s drug companies had a top secret project in the works: a drug that would let blue-ties have orgasms without having to stoop so low as to touch another person, or even themselves. Physical contact among blue-tie civilians, outside of a handshake, was so rare it was practically taboo. But the fact that blue-ties were unaccustomed to touch didn’t mean they never longed for it.

Those squeezes of the hand meant everything to Merritt. They were secret moments of intimacy in a world where intimacy was a weakness to be exploited.

But Merritt didn’t feel weak. He felt bold, determined, willing to fight harder than ever.

His work schedule for the rest of the week was booked with such fantastical tasks as assassinating the West Sphere’s King and arranging a rescue for a POW whose execution video the East had aired two months ago. Merritt suspected the board was just yanking his chain. But the most daunting task of all was having to wait till the weekend to be alone with Belmont. During work hours—which accounted for most of their hours—they could barely sneak in a kiss here and there in Belmont’s office between meetings. According to Belmont, almost every room in Stations 0 and 1 was rigged with security cameras, and their remaining onsite options were scarce and unappealing. And, while Merritt’s body delighted in the scandalous act of making out with his boss at work, his brain was reluctant to slack off while on the clock.

He also couldn’t rid himself of the worry that they might be caught. “What if someone hears us?” he’d once whispered in Belmont’s ear while straddling him in his office chair.

“This room is soundproof,” Belmont had replied between kisses to Merritt’s neck.

“What if it’s bugged? What if 75th is sitting in her South Sphere lab watching us?”

“Then I’ll bill her for the show.” And then he’d dragged his tongue down Merritt’s neck, instantly vaporizing all Merritt’s worries about being surveilled. But half a minute later, Belmont’s phone had beeped with an urgent alert, ruining their rendezvous and leaving Merritt so full of pent-up desire he could have screamed.

How could Belmont, of all people, have gotten to him like this? Hell, he’d spent enough time in Archer’s lab getting poison immunizations that the phantom nausea still visited him every Sunday night. He’d pumped his veins full of chemicals for months, all to protect himself from the man whose touch he now ached for.

As he lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, two simple refrains echoed in his head: “Why him?” and “You’re an idiot.” Nothing about his yearning for Belmont was smart. Nothing about it was rational. Nothing about it would make his life easier.

But he couldn’t remember another time he’d felt his heart fly so high.

Merritt only had to last till the weekend. Both he and Belmont had Sunday off. He could wait till Sunday, couldn’t he?

He’d thought he could, until he got a text from Belmont on Saturday night. Pratt ruined everything. Now I have an emergency board meeting all day tomorrow. I’m tempted to have him killed, but I know you’d snitch.

Merritt chuckled before texting back, When do you think you’ll finish?

Don’t know, came the reply. That fucker doesn’t know how to shut up.

I understand, Merritt typed, but he could barely contain his disappointment as he settled into bed.

Belmont sent him regular updates throughout Sunday morning, as indiscreet as ever. Belmont’s texting habits made Merritt nervous, despite his confidence in his secure phone’s encryption. Then again, Belmont never put anything into a text message that he wasn’t equally willing to blurt out loud in public.

At eight a.m., he texted, Maybe I should poison all the Spark tubes at the wet bar. That should speed things up. At nine, he wrote, Ugh, these insufferable idiots. My hit list just doubled in length. At five past nine: Speaking of doubling in length, here’s me before and after thinking about your ass—followed by a pair of dimly lit photos taken under the conference table, where the bulge in Belmont’s thin slacks left little to the imagination.

Merritt was mortified that Belmont had texted him those pictures in the middle of a board meeting, but he couldn’t help staring for longer than necessary. After finally prying his eyes away, he texted back, Your pants are more transparent than my poker face.

By two in the afternoon, Belmont didn’t seem any closer to getting out of work. Merritt had to accept that their plans wouldn’t pan out, and he needed comfort food. He reluctantly hopped onto his motorcycle and rode out to the Norwood slums. Down the street from his old orphanage, he could usually find a street vendor selling the cheapest fish in the North Sphere.

As dank and dirty as the slums were, they never stopped feeling like home, and he never stopped feeling welcome there. Despite the moderate success he’d attained within his sphere, the slums’ aces and twos still saw him as one of their own. There was no real glory in being in the military, no matter how high up one managed to rise. They knew that Merritt faced the same condescending gaze from his elite superiors that they faced whenever they approached the border they shared with the upscale sub-Forest Glen.

He bought enough fish, vegetables, and seasonings to make three or four servings of stew. He was sick of eating dinner at the mess hall every day, and cooking relaxed him. Since moving to the general’s quarters, he’d only had the time to cook once or twice a month. If it had been up to him, he would have cooked all his meals himself.

He took his groceries back to his quarters and set to work in his cramped kitchenette. At half past five, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He stood at the counter, knuckle-deep in fish guts, looking around helplessly as his phone impatiently zapped his hip. He gave his hands a hasty wash and blotted them on a towel, knowing they still carried remnants of soap and grease when he grabbed his phone. Belmont’s name flashed on the screen, and excitement rushed through his chest.

After accepting the call with his knuckle, he set the phone on the counter and switched it to speaker. “Hey,” he said, then cringed at the sappy tone in his voice.

“I just got out of the meeting,” Belmont said. “So, what are you doing for dinner?”

“I’m cooking,” Merritt told him. “I picked up some groceries at the market this afternoon. I’m in the middle of cutting up some fish.”

“Oh.” Belmont paused in a way that revealed disappointment. “I thought maybe you’d still want to go out.”

“I’m making enough for two,” Merritt replied hopefully.

“Oh?”

Suddenly, he felt self-conscious. He wanted more than anything to see Belmont, but if he’d known Belmont would be coming over, he would have made something more sophisticated. “It’s kind of… peasant food, though. It’s fish stew. I use just about every part of the fish and every part of the vegetables. I don’t know if you’d like it.”

“What do you mean, ‘every part’? You put in the eyeballs and everything?”

Merritt swallowed. “I wouldn’t want to waste them.”

With a laugh, Belmont said, “In that case, I must come over for dinner. It sounds like it’ll be an adventure.”

Despite his insecurity, Merritt felt himself grinning with excitement. Trying not to sound too eager, he said, “I should be done cooking in forty minutes. But you can come over anytime.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

As promised, Belmont arrived twenty minutes later. Merritt hurriedly washed his hands, then pulled on his uniform jacket before he answered the door. Belmont wore a casual, sexy suit and no hat, and he held a bottle of wine.

“Hi,” Merritt said. He smiled stupidly.

“Hi,” Belmont repeated with a cocky grin.

Merritt stepped aside, allowing Belmont entrance. He’d barely closed the door when Belmont knocked him back against it and kissed him ravenously on the lips. Merritt wrapped his arms around the back of Belmont’s neck, returning the kiss with just as much passion.

After they parted, Belmont’s hands lingered at Merritt’s waist. “I’ve been waiting way too long to do that.” He bumped his hips playfully against Merritt’s. “Why are you dressed in full uniform? It’s your day off.”

Merritt looked down at his crisp fighting jacket and vest. “My civilian clothes are kind of ratty. I need new ones, but I haven’t had the time to deal with it. My uniform was custom tailored, so it’s the nicest thing I have.”

“Not the nicest,” Belmont protested. “Don’t you have a four-thousand-dollar suit somewhere in your closet? When do I get to see that?”

Merritt squinted at him in challenge. “You want me to wear a four-thousand-dollar suit just to cook you dinner? And you think it’s weird that I’m wearing my uniform?”

Belmont shook his head. “I just didn’t think you’d wear your uniform during your off hours, that’s all.”

“I don’t know,” Merritt mumbled. “I like the uniform.”

“I like the uniform too,” Belmont conceded, then gave Merritt’s ear a light nip. “And at least you aren’t wearing the holsters and poison packs. I’ll give you credit for that.” He headed further into the suite and set his wine bottle on the counter. “I get it, though, even if you won’t admit to the whole story. Your uniform means something to you, and that’s why you wear it when you don’t have to.” He gestured toward his own chest. “Same with me. Even on those rare days when I don’t plan to leave home, I still wear my double-banded tie.”

“You do?” Merritt asked, surprised.

“It’s the most important thing I own,” Belmont replied. “I know the sacrifices I made to earn it. Mercury and I have our differences, but he gave me this tie when he invited me into his inner circle, and if he wants it back, he’ll have to take it off my corpse.” He gave a heavy sigh. “But enough about him.” He reached out and pulled Merritt into a tight hug.

Merritt settled into his arms, taking in his warmth.

“Fuck, I could hold you forever,” Belmont whispered, and Merritt sighed in response. Belmont’s lips brushed Merritt’s ear. He licked, then sucked, then slid his lips down to the nape of Merritt’s neck. His teeth just barely grazed skin when Merritt said, “Wait.”

“Really?” Belmont asked.

Merritt chuckled at Belmont’s disappointed tone. Then he tilted his head, exposing his neck. “Just don’t break the skin.”

With a growl of excitement, Belmont squeezed Merritt tight, biting down on the side of his neck. Merritt sucked in a breath, startled at Belmont’s intensity. The bite was just sharp enough to make him jump.

Without loosening his teeth, Belmont ran his hands down the front of Merritt’s vest. He’d managed to undo a couple of buttons when Merritt heard the sound of liquid dripping and sizzling on the stove burner. “The stew,” he gasped. “I have to stir it.”

“Damn it,” Belmont muttered, reluctantly letting Merritt go.

Merritt headed for the stove. Over his shoulder, he asked, “What’s the wine?”

“Nothing special. Roseland red. It’s expensive, and Mercury’s advisors are all wild about it, but I think it’s overrated. Pratt gave it to me. Sucking up, I suspect.” He picked up the bottle, examined the label, and set it back down with a clunk. “But overrated doesn’t mean bad, and for a red wine, it pairs surprisingly well with fish. You might even like it more than I do.”

“It feels weird to drink alcohol this often,” Merritt said.

“How often?”

“Well, last weekend. And now this weekend. I never drink that much.”

Belmont chuckled. “Is there anything you drink on special occasions other than Focus in water?”

Merritt lingered over the stew, stirring it even though it didn’t need any more stirring. “Water is really great by itself too.”

“Water?” Belmont asked. “Water?”

“When I was a teenager, my friends and I used to go all around the North Sphere on weekends sampling the local water.”

Belmont sputtered and then broke into a laugh. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Tap water is one of the few things you can still get for free, and the mineral content is vastly different from one county to the next. You’d think you’d have the best tasting water up at headquarters, but the best tap water I ever had was in the sub-Forest Glen region. I think it shares a source with the hidden pond we went to.” With an embarrassed smile, he turned to Belmont. “And it mixes really well with Focus.”

Head tilted, Belmont asked, “So, can you tell what region a glass of tap water comes from just by tasting it?”

“Usually,” Merritt replied. “There are a few regions I’ve only been to once or twice, so it’s harder for me to tell—except for sub-Forest Glen. I’ve only been there once, but I’d never forget their water. I’d kill to go up there again.”

Belmont shook his head with what looked like disdain, but when he turned back to Merritt, he wore a wide grin. “Fine. Next weekend, you and me. We’ll go up to sub-Forest Glen and get us some of that excellent water.” He stepped up beside Merritt, then wrapped an arm around him and gave him a kiss on the side of the forehead. “You little nerd.”

“You’d really go?” Merritt asked. “You’d go with me just to drink water?”

“It’s fun watching you get excited about lame things,” Belmont replied with a laugh. “Most blue-ties hate everything, and here you are about to burst with glee over the thought of drinking some good water. I love it.”

Trying to hide his unreasonably pleased grin, Merritt turned away from Belmont and ladled the fish stew into two bowls. He carried the bowls to the table, where he’d already set a small, sliced loaf of fresh bread. Belmont uncorked the wine and poured a glass for each of them, and Merritt poured two glasses of water. He knew he was fumbling through the rules of serving etiquette as he set the table, but Belmont didn’t seem to care.

They sat down to dinner in comfortable silence. After a few bites, Belmont raised his head. “When you said ‘peasant food,’ I was expecting some sort of flavorless slop. But this isn’t bad at all. I can’t believe you made it yourself.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never cooked a real meal from scratch. I grew up with servants, and now I always order out, or I have the servants at headquarters come in and cook. Sometimes I forget that cooking is something people can do for themselves.” He ate another spoonful, then asked, “Where did you learn to cook?”

Merritt finished chewing and swallowed. “Before I was old enough to serve in the military, I worked part time in the mess hall. What we cooked there really was flavorless slop, but it taught me the basics. I also found a lot of old cookbooks in the digital archive of books from the surface. They were interesting, so I studied them, and I paid attention to the patterns of ingredients in the recipes—which combinations of seasonings were typically applied to which types of food, and in what quantities. A lot of my cooking knowledge is more theoretical than practical, but I think I do all right.”

“Is cooking hard?” Belmont asked.

“I don’t know,” Merritt replied with a shrug. “I think it’s fun. I think of recipes the same way I think of poison formulas. They follow some of the same rules. But I don’t know any other blue-ties who like to cook. Devon—” Merritt caught himself, wondering if it would be awkward to talk about Devon to Belmont. Belmont raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued, and Merritt realized Belmont wouldn’t let him start the story without finishing. “Devon had a lot of raw ingredients in his kitchen, but he never cooked with them. He told me he just bought them for decoration. But I made him breakfast with them, and he seemed to like it.”

“Why did you make him breakfast?” Belmont asked, confused.

Merritt’s cheeks reddened. “I… I’m not sure. I read a lot of books from the surface where people did that. I hear they sometimes do it in the South Sphere too. If someone stays the night with you, you make them breakfast the next morning. I always loved that idea, but I’d never had a chance to try it. I’d never spent the night with anyone before Devon.”

“Was it worth it?” Belmont asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It just seems like a lot of effort.”

“I didn’t think of it that way. I’d had a good time with him, and he’d been really generous with me earlier that day, so I wanted to do something nice for him.”

Belmont pondered Merritt’s words as he ate another spoonful of stew. He chewed slowly, staring blankly across the room. Then he said, “It’s been years since I’ve stayed with someone overnight. Falling asleep next to someone is pretty risky, and it only gets riskier as you get higher up in rank.” He chuckled softly. “Unless the other guy is tied up. Then I can usually catch a few hours of peace.”

“You’re horrible,” Merritt said through a chuckle.

“I prefer ‘practical.’”

Merritt thought back to that morning at Devon’s house, and that feeling of existential dread that had filled him after he’d finally acknowledged his attraction to Belmont. He’d tried to fight it, telling himself that it was just physical, that Belmont would never respect him, that Belmont would never share a cozy morning after with him the way Devon had. Now, Merritt wasn’t so sure. He doubted Belmont was sentimental enough to value such a thing, but he couldn’t help clinging to the implausible fantasy.

They continued to chat over dinner, discussing nothing of consequence. Belmont asked Merritt what he liked to read besides cookbooks, and he listed some of his favorite genres and authors. They debated Lord of the Flies and Frankenstein, 1984 and Brave New World. Belmont claimed he could name over one hundred authors of erotica off the top of his head, and Merritt, with a teasing grin, bet that ninety-nine of them were Belmont’s pseudonyms.

Merritt couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun just talking to someone. When Belmont took seconds of the fish stew, Merritt felt surprisingly elated.

Two and a half hours had passed by the time Merritt got up to clear the table. Belmont pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time, frowning. “How is it already past eight? Where the fuck did the weekend go?” He gave an irritated grumble. “We got cheated out of a day together.”

“Do you have to hurry home?” Merritt asked, trying his best to sound neutral.

“No. But I assumed—”

“You can stay as late as you want,” Merritt said. He finished washing the bowls and set them in the drying rack. “I don’t mind, even if you don’t leave till we have to go to work in the morning.”

“Yeah, but….”

Merritt glanced over his shoulder. “Are you really worried that I’d kill you in your sleep?”

“No,” Belmont replied with an incredulous snort. “But you might hack my phone.”

Merritt stammered for a moment before replying, “I hadn’t thought to do that, but it’s a pretty good idea, now that you mention it.”

Belmont threw a wadded-up napkin at his head. It lodged itself in between the spikes of his hair, and he shook it off with a laugh.

“Half past eight isn’t so late,” Merritt insisted. “We still have plenty of time to… do things.”

Belmont raised a mischievous eyebrow; then he caught himself. “Is this like how you invited me out onto the balcony with you at the North Star Lounge and then dislocated my arm when I tried to make a move on you?”

Merritt frowned in confusion. “Huh?”

“By ‘do things,’ I assume you mean…?” Belmont gestured toward the bedroom.

“Oh.” Merritt blushed. “I… I didn’t actually mean it that way.”

Belmont rolled his eyes.

“But I wouldn’t mind,” Merritt added.

“You ‘wouldn’t mind’?”

“What?”

Crossing his arms, Belmont replied, “I’d like to see you be a little more enthusiastic about it, that’s all.”

“I am enthusiastic.”

“No. I want to see you get as worked up as you did when you saw my Peregrine. Or when you talked about your favorite water.”

Merritt chewed his lip. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly hesitant to rush off to bed with Belmont. It was something he couldn’t deny craving. But after a moment of thought, he realized he wasn’t ready for their conversation to end yet. He still wanted more of Belmont’s tricky questions and knowing laugh.

And he wasn’t sure if he was ready to do more than they’d already done. The thought of sex with someone like Belmont was still a little overwhelming. Real sex, in his own home—not just a quickie in a stairwell. What would it even be like? Would they want the same things? He remembered all the items he’d discovered while searching Belmont’s bedroom for poisoned glasses wipes, and his gaze shifted.

For a moment, Belmont examined him. “Are you scared or something?”

Now that Belmont mentioned it, he realized he was, a little bit. “I wouldn’t say ‘scared.’ But I think you’re a lot more… adventurous than I am.”

Belmont cocked his head. “What? You mean that stuff you found in my closet?” He raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t use that on you anyway.”

“Why not?” Merritt asked, then scolded himself mentally for the note of disappointment in his voice.

“You seem like the type of guy who’d refuse to say your safe word even if you needed to. I don’t go hard with anyone new who doesn’t know their own limits.”

Merritt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “Okay, fine. But that’s not really what I was thinking about.”

“Then what?” Belmont asked before the realization suddenly struck him. He gave an understanding nod. “Oh. I don’t bottom, and you’ve only ever topped. Is that it?”

“Well… yes,” Merritt replied, embarrassed. “And I’ve barely even done that. If you’re used to being with guys who are more experienced….”

“I really don’t give a damn about experience,” Belmont replied. “But it doesn’t matter. We don’t have to talk about any of that tonight if you don’t want to.”

Merritt tried to conceal his sigh of relief.

“Tell you what,” Belmont said. “What do you normally like to do on Sunday nights?”

Merritt considered. “Usually, I hack into the South Sphere’s surveillance feeds and spend a few hours going through their videos. The East’s Explosives Unit is supposed to be doing some late night training. I was thinking of watching.”

Belmont’s eyes widened just a bit in what looked like surprise. “You can get into the South Sphere’s surveillance feed?”

“It’s hit or miss.”

“Okay.” Belmont blinked, dumbstruck. After finally collecting himself, he said, “So you spend your nights off work by… working more?”

“Hacking doesn’t feel like work, though.”

“If you say so.” Belmont cracked a smile. “So, how about you do your hacking and watching videos on the couch with me—in my lap. You can do that thing you love to do so much, where you explain everything in minute detail even though the knowledge won’t do me any good, and I won’t even complain. And when you get sick of it, I’ll leave and you can go to sleep.”

“Damn it, that sounds fun,” Merritt said with a begrudging laugh. “But wouldn’t you get bored?”

“Did you not hear the ‘in my lap’ part?” Belmont pulled Merritt forward into an embrace. “How often do I get to just hold you? This is the underground. Down here it’s a million times easier to find someone who’ll let you fuck them than it is to find someone who’ll let you hug them.”

Merritt smiled up at Belmont. “Let me get my laptop.”

* * *

To Merritt, a blue-tie to his core, sitting in such close quarters with another man almost felt scandalous. Belmont’s words had rung true; physical contact in the North Sphere was almost unheard of, outside of sexual encounters. Merritt worried that he wouldn’t be able to sink into the experience. He remembered standing stiffly while being hugged by Swann, his former blue-tie friend who’d been traded to the East, and he worried that Belmont would read his body’s rigidity as reluctance.

But it only took seconds for Merritt’s body to melt against Belmont’s. Belmont lay across the sofa, propped up against the armrest, with Merritt seated between his legs. His arms were wrapped around Merritt’s waist, his chin resting on Merritt’s shoulder as he watched the screen. Occasionally, he took a sip from a glass of wine, and Merritt found the smell of it wafting behind him to be oddly comforting. He could tell that Belmont wasn’t really engaged in the action on the screen, but he was entirely engaged in Merritt, idly nuzzling his neck, stroking his abdomen or his thigh or his hair. For a brief moment, Merritt dared to imagine what it would be like to be with Belmont, to hug him, to cuddle with him not just tonight but every night.

Belmont spoke few words, but Merritt could feel his longing in the tightness of his hold. They both knew what it was like to live for decades as blue-ties, expected to exude the coldness of the North with their every action. Their cold fronts and poker faces were the only way blue-ties knew to protect themselves. But right now, with Belmont, Merritt only felt the most comforting warmth. He was unguarded, unprotected—and if he’d died at that very moment, he would have had no regrets.

“You know what I just realized?” Belmont asked, giving Merritt’s hair a sniff. “You smell like computers.”

Merritt turned his head, puzzled.

“You know that smell, when you just unwrap a new computer? The expensive kind with the aluminum casing? It’s kind of like that, only a lot better.” He laughed. “What are you? A cyborg?”

“Well, I don’t want to smell like a soldier. Not when I have to spend so much time around elites. You know how bad the water quality is around here; everything and everyone in the military district ends up smelling like bad water. And I can’t afford elite colognes.”

“What did you do, then? Did you devise some sort of chemical to get rid of your smell?”

“Kind of. It’s just something topical I made when I was sitting in on chemistry class. I add a few drops to my shampoo.”

Belmont inhaled slowly. “It’s weird, but I like it.”

Merritt settled back against Belmont’s chest as he watched the East Sphere soldiers train on his computer screen. Just routine drills. By eleven, Merritt could barely keep up his focus. The distant figures on the screen were of little interest compared to the man who held him.

He closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table. Then he slowly rolled over to face Belmont, lying atop him and nuzzling his neck. He traced kisses from Belmont’s ear down to his collarbone, and Belmont let out a satisfied sigh.

After a few minutes, Belmont shifted as if to get up, and Merritt’s heart sank. He rested his head against Belmont’s chest and whispered, “If you stay the night, I promise I won’t hack your phone.”

Belmont broke out into a laugh, clearly caught off guard. After he collected himself, he squeezed Merritt tight. “Eh, I don’t feel like driving back to headquarters this late anyway.” He leaned in close to Merritt’s ear. “How ‘bout I blow you to sleep?”

“Is that… really a thing people do?” Merritt asked, and Belmont laughed again.

He slid out from under Merritt, then grabbed his hand and pulled him up to his feet. They headed down the short hall toward the bedroom, where Belmont fell back across the bed as comfortably as if it were his own. “You really gotta lose the uniform,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows.

Merritt eagerly tossed aside his jacket and vest while Belmont lazily unbuttoned his own shirt. Merritt began pulling his tank off over his head, but then he wondered if he should undo his belt and pants first. His arms moved faster than his brain, sucking back into his shirt to reach for his belt buckle, and before he knew what had happened, he was trapped and tangled within the tight tank.

“What are you doing?” Belmont asked from somewhere off to the side.

Merritt tried to work one of his arms free, but his shoulders were too broad to maneuver within the tank. What had he just done? Was he really stuck inside his shirt, with Belmont sitting and waiting for him?

There had to be a cool, slick way to slide free of the garment. Right? He wrestled with the fabric and managed to peek out of an arm hole with one eye. Belmont still lay back on the bed, shirt and tie undone, a look of amusement on his face. He raised his eyebrows in silence and waited for Merritt to speak.

Merritt cleared his throat self-consciously. “I… I’m having trouble.”

“I can see that,” Belmont replied, the corners of his smiling mouth twitching.

“Can you…?” Merritt wriggled a bit inside his shirt.

Belmont’s eyes narrowed wickedly. “I think you’re just fine the way you are,” he said. Then he rose to his feet and stepped up to Merritt’s side. His devilish smile widened, and he tossed Merritt onto the bed, then freed him of his pants without touching his shirt.

“Hey!” Merritt cried with a startled laugh.

“I thought you wanted me to blow you,” Belmont purred.

Merritt gave a jokingly disgruntled huff and slumped against the bed, the ceiling light hazy beyond the fabric of his shirt. “If I go in to work tomorrow still stuck in my shirt, it’s your fault,” he called.

“We’ll see how things go,” Belmont replied with a devious chuckle as he lowered his head.

* * *

Merritt slept soundly within Belmont’s arms, his body satisfied and his mind at peace. Belmont’s slow, steady breaths soothed him in a way no sleep enhancer ever had. The rickety bed and thin mattress were barely enough for Merritt, let alone his lover’s six extra inches of height, but Belmont didn’t complain.

It took a blaring alarm at six a.m. to snap Merritt out of sleep. That was no regular morning alarm. He leapt out of his bed—his empty bed—and bolted across the room. His brain processed his surroundings in a split second as he moved—a flash of lights evident from the crack under his bedroom door, a smoky haze in the air, the smell of something burning.

Were his quarters on fire? Where was Belmont?

He threw the bedroom door open and raced down the hall wearing nothing but his underwear. He spotted Belmont at the kitchenette counter, half naked, frantically waving a dish towel as billowing smoke rose from the stove.

“What happened?” Merritt asked, skidding to a stop behind Belmont.

Belmont jumped with surprise; he hadn’t heard Merritt coming over the sound of the alarm. He turned around, his cheeks red and his emotion concealed behind a mask of angry indignation. “Something’s wrong with your stove,” he said emphatically. “And your smoke alarm.”

Merritt tried to look over Belmont’s shoulder at the stove, but Belmont used his body as a shield.

“How do you turn off the alarm?” Belmont demanded.

“By getting rid of the smoke.” Merritt tried again to peer over Belmont’s shoulder. “What did you do?”

Belmont hastily turned around. He grabbed a frying pan off the stove and rushed it over to the sink, where he flipped on the cold water. A horrid pop like a gunshot echoed across the room the moment the cold water hit the hot pan, warping it on impact. Belmont flinched and dropped it into the sink.

Merritt switched on the exhaust fan and turned off the stove. Then he glanced around his kitchenette, bewildered. Lentil flour, pigeon eggs, sugar, and oil sat out on the counter beside a mixing bowl. The ingredients and bowl were used but neat, without a spill on the counter. At the other end of the counter sat Belmont’s cell phone. Merritt wasn’t close enough to read what was on the screen, but he could tell that it was a recipe.

The high-powered exhaust quickly cleared the smoke out of the room, and at last the alarm ceased. Merritt glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed with relief. “If that had gone another minute, the smoke alarm would have triggered a security alert. Ellis would’ve been here with backup, and we’d have had a lot of explaining to do.” He gestured toward the items on the counter and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Belmont fell back against the wall, grabbing his hair. “It all seemed easy until I turned on the heat. That pan heated up way too fast. I think it was defective. It had to be.” He shook his head and grumbled under his breath. “I mean, what do they expect you to do? Hover over the food for every second while it cooks? You can’t ever step away to do something else for a few minutes?”

Merritt approached the sink. He pulled out his favorite pan, now horribly warped and crusted with something black. He could barely make out the circular silhouette of what looked like a pancake.

“I’ll buy you a new pan,” Belmont said. “I’ll buy you a better pan. A whole set of better pans.” He grabbed his head again and growled, “Fuck!”

“What were you even doing, though?” Merritt asked, setting the pan aside. He still couldn’t make sense of why Belmont had decided to try burning down his kitchen at six in the morning.

“Ugh.” Belmont covered his face and groaned into his hands. Sounding more embarrassed than Merritt had ever heard him, he grumbled, “You were talking about how much you liked the idea of people making breakfast for each other after staying over. I didn’t think it would be that hard. You made it seem easy.” He let out another frustrated grunt and knocked the back of his head against the wall. “I can’t believe I fucked that up.”

Merritt raised a hand over his face to conceal his sappy smile. For reasons he couldn’t articulate, Belmont’s words made his heart soar. He approached Belmont slowly, then drew him into a tight embrace.

Belmont hesitated. “What’s that for?” he asked before cautiously hugging Merritt back.

Merritt shrugged and closed his eyes. “I’m just really happy.” 

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