Page 51 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
“None.” Mr. Moreau rubbed his forehead. “And all of those unthought thoughts are bursting through my skull.” He pinched the bridge of his now. “Also, some South Korean pastor is outside our building trying to browbeat the populace into surrendering to Jehovah. He was attempting to employ a bullhorn, but they told him he didn’t have a permit for that.”
Damian returned with hands full of dishes. “I saw him too. Yesterday. He’s from Busan. The man’s intense but not the most intense street preacher I’ve met from there.”
Collin wrinkled his forehead. “Street preaching is a thing over there?”
Damian nodded, setting dishes on the table. “Pastors on bullhorns early in the morning is certainly something I run into when I visit. And I never saw one stopped no matter how early it was. One time I was on the eighteenth floor of this building, and I could still hear everything the guy was saying at seven a.m.”
Collin rubbed his eyes with both fists. “I thought they’d be Buddhist or something. Sorry, perhaps that’s wrong of me to say. Maybe that’s China?”
“China is only partially traditionally Buddhist. Buddhism is originally from India. As is Hinduism,” Mr. Reevesworth said. He let Collin sit up, only to pull him into his lap. “South Korea has a very large, very active Christian population, though, alongside its Buddhist and Confucian traditions.”
Damian set down a bowl of cherry tomatoes. “There’s more active Christians in South Korea right now than Buddhists though I’m not sure by how much. It surprised me, too, when I first went there to study. All the tourist ads are for beautiful old palaces and temples.”
Collin sank back into his master’s chest. “Ugh, I have so much to learn.” How was he ever going to catch up with these men?
Mr. Reevesworth kissed the top of his head. “Don’t worry. There was a time when I didn’t know Timbuktu was a real place.”
Mr. Moreau chuckled, eyes half closed. “You fought me on that, too.”
“In my defense, I was half drunk and a twenty-something American. You know geography didn’t cover that back then.”
Mr. Moreau chuckled, looking at his husband fondly. “Fortunately for you, you were an adorable drunk.”
Mr. Reevesworth mock glared at his husband. “You’re the one who didn’t tell me what the green stuff was.”
Collin’s eyes widened. No! “You let him drink absinthe and didn’t tell him?”
Mr. Moreau smirked. “Only half of a mixed drink. I stopped him.”
Mr. Reevesworth wrapped both arms around Collin and cuddled him close as if Collin could protect him from the past. “Only after I threw up into the canal.”
“Canal?” Collin frowned.
“We were in Venice.” Mr. Moreau tapped his chin with his index finger, thinking. “Someday we’ll take you there.”
“Venice is more your city than mine, Émeric. Make it a romantic trip with just you and Collin. Damian and I just did it three years ago anyway. If we’re all traveling that region together, I’d rather Palermo.”
Damian perched on the arm of the couch. “Is that in Sicily?”
“Yes.” Mr. Reevesworth nuzzled Collin’s hair again. “It’s been on my list for years, but I’ve never actually visited.”
“Neither have I.” Mr. Moreau started selecting food from the spread and putting it onto one of the small plates. “We’ll have to make it happen. Ami might join us for the cuisine. We’ve been sticks-in-the mud for the last two years, but Collin is waking us back up.” Mr. Moreau settled back into his seat.
Mr. Reevesworth stood, picking Collin up in his arms. “Your turn for kitten cuddles, Émeric. Mind his hole.”
“Oh, is he sore?” Mr. Moreau spread his legs and lifted his hand with his plate to make room for Collin on his lap. “Or did you put something in there?”
Mr. Reevesworth set Collin down so that Collin was leaning into Mr. Moreau’s shoulder, both legs curled in on the other side of the man’s lap. He patted Collin’s head and turned away to get food for himself. “Just a plug.”
Collin hid his face in Mr. Moreau’s shirt. Just a plug indeed. He could still feel his master’s spunk inside him.
Collin never did get clothes back that evening. He curled up in one lap or another both during dinner and after. Mr. Moreau moved to the couch, taking Collin with him, so they could stretch out, but even there, Collin was snuggled between his sir’s legs. Mr. Reevesworth turned up the heat and took away the blanket for his own amusement. Around ten, Collin yawned and asked whether or not taking the weekend off meant Mandarin classes for him and Ash in the morning.
“No class.” Mr. Reevesworth shook his head. “I canceled it. You need to rest. And your teacher is happy with your progress.”
“The only plans we have,” Mr. Moreau said, rubbing Collin’s back and neck, “is writing the new contract.”
Mr. Reevesworth glanced toward Damian. “I’ve set aside time for us if you want to talk contracts as well, pup.”
