Page 60 of Pick Me
But for some reason, this guy who could have had anyone had pickedmeto be with for the next few weeks, and I wasn’t in any position to be turning down miracles that found their way into my bed. He was the serendipity in an otherwise utterly shittastic year, and I was gonna savor it.
“You’re doing it wrong, Goodman,” I called, apropos of literally nothing.
The humming stopped, and Gage turned around slowly, a pair of socks in his hands. He lifted an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“The laundry.” I gave a pointed look at his socks. “You’re doing it wrong. You’re sorting by item when you should sort by color.”
“But…” Gage blinked down at the socks. “Iamsorting by color.”
I stacked my hands behind my head and tucked my tongue into my cheek. “Ah,I see the problem. No, I meant sortingcorrectlyby color.”
He scowled. “These socks are gray. They go with light colors.”
“Mmm, they’re a distinctly dark gray,” I lied. “They should go with darks.” I tapped my toe to a happy beat only I could hear. “I mean, if you wanna beefficient.”
His expression lightened, and he looked me up and down heatedly, making my dick stir. “Wait, are you under the mistaken impression that I think you lecturing me on the most efficient way to do shit is cute?”
I pursed my lips. “Maybe notcute. But a competence kink is a real thing, Goodman. And I happen to be very…” I ran a hand over my dick and arched up into it, giving myself some friction. “…competent.”
“Is that right?” Gage threw the socks over his shoulder without looking to see which pile they landed in and stalked toward the sofa with a big grin on his face. “You know, you sound a little full of yourself there, Mr. Sunday.” He bent down to press his smile to mine and added in a whisper, “Maybe you should be full of me instead.”
I grasped him by the back of the neck, pulling him down for a kiss, and he climbed onto the sofa with his knees on either side of my waist. His dick was already hard, and I wanted to taste him so badly I could—
We heard the sound of excited footsteps running up the outside stairs at the same time, followed by the scratching of a dog outside the door.
“Gage! Uncle Knox!” Aiden yelled.
Gage jumped off me like he’d been doused in boiling oil precisely one second before Aiden burst through the apartment door with Sally Ann in tow.
“Hey!” Aiden said, pink-cheeked and breathless. “You guys comin’?”
“Er… Coming where?” I sat up and pulled a throw pillow over my lap.
Gage knelt down to rub Sally Ann’s head and adjusted himself stealthily.
“To supper,” he said, in a tone that tacked an unspoken “obviously”to the end of the statement. “It’s Sunday, remember? Dad’s got football on, and we’re grilling.” And because he knew his audience, Aiden looked at Gage when he added, “Chickenandsteak. And Marco made potato salad and pumpkin bread.”
“Oh, heck yeah. We’re definitely coming. I just…” Gage darted a look at me and cleared his throat. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the washer and dryer in the closet near the kitchen. “I’m gonna put in a load of laundry, and then we’ll be along, okay?”
“Sure,” Aiden agreed. “But Dad invited Uncle Jack over, so you better hurry, ’cause he eats a lot.”
Gage nodded solemnly. “Fast as I can.”
Aiden turned to me. “You coming, Uncle Knox?”
“Of course. But first… I… should…” I looked at Gage helplessly.
“Assist me. In, uh… sorting the clothes. Your uncle is just so competent.” He shrugged at Aiden apologetically.
“Oh, I can help you,” Aiden said cheerfully. “I sort my clothes right when I get undressed, though. Dad says that’s more efficient.”
Gage looked up at the ceiling and muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Baby Jesus, save me from efficient Sundays.” But he smiled at Aiden. “Why don’t you go along and save me some chicken, okay?”
“M’kay,” Aiden agreed. But he didn’t go. In fact, he sat himself down on a chair instead. “So, how was your trip to Boston?”
Gage and I exchanged a frustrated look.
“Not long enough,” Gage said with feeling.
