Page 64 of Full Service

“Please do,” I say as I lead him toward the stairs. “I feel like I really need you to prove this hypothesis.”

“I’ll prove it alright,” he tells me as I start to jog up the stairs. He keeps up with me, even if I do hear his knees cracking every once in a while. Just means they’re well used.

Hopefully they are even more so when I get back to his place.

I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this. That he is. For fuck’s sake, this is going to end terribly, but I’m too enamored to turn him down.

Just think of all the things we could do together. I could wander around naked and tempt him to take his clothes off. I could cockwarm him on the sofa while we watch TV.

Well, maybe not. The fish might not like that.

Better to cockwarm him in bed after eating his ass.

The thought makes me take the stairs two at a time, and by the time we make it to my fifth-floor apartment, Silas is hunched over, his hands on his thighs.

“You okay there?” I ask, and he stares up at me. A piece of his hair flops onto his forehead and his lips purse. He looks like he’s about to give me a kiss.

I like that look a little too much.

“I’m perfectly fine. Just haven’t walked up any stairs recently.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so. Not this many anyways. I didn’t realize you lived on the top floor.”

“Yep, the one and only. Hence the caved-in ceiling. And the many other things that have gone wrong with this place.”

Dr. Sinclair straightens and he looks very much like a Silas at the moment, a little disheveled and sweaty. Kind of like when he was ramming that dildo up his ass earlier.

I adjust my hard cock and his eyes swivel down to it. He wets his lips. Hungry.

He wants to show me just how well those knees work right at this very moment.

But he seems to have other plans. He runs a hand through his hair and arches a very meticulous eyebrow. Is that a thing? Can eyebrows be meticulous?

I’ll have to research this, for science.

“What other issues have you been having in this hell hole?” he asks, his eyes turning toward the peeling paint on the walls.

“Uh, you know, the usual. Caved-in ceiling, wet floors, leaky faucets, the smell of rotting corpse.”

His eyes widen. “None of that is usual, Everly. I think this place should be burned to the ground. Rotting corpse?”

“Well, who knows? There could be someone buried between the walls.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Everly. Absolutely not.”

He grabs on to my hand and leads me forward. Not that he knows where he’s going. But it sure is damn cute.

“Over here,” I say, as I lead him to a door with caution tape strewn on it.

“Seems just like a crime scene,” he grumbles and then pushes his way in. The door swings open easily, and I swear Silas is going to have a stroke right here and now.

“Oh yeah, and the lock doesn’t work.”

He sighs and makes his way inside, his feet squishing on the floor.

It’s pretty bad, worse than I imagined. There is insulation on the ground and part of the ceiling just lying there. The entire space smells like mold, and I wonder what my room looks like.

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