Page 30 of Seamus's Basement
“Where’s your phone? I’ll get it.” He walked out of the bathroom, DJ still in his arms.
“It’s in the front pocket of my tight jeans, and I swear to God, Seamus, if you try to get it yourself while you’re holding me bridal style, you will be giving me a very specific message.” He searched Seamus’s eyes. “I usually find your cluelessness about all things romantic charming but I need you to understand what I’m saying.”
His heart was racing and his mind was all over the place. “You’re hurt,” he said again, ignoring what he very much understood DJ was saying.
“That is actually not my primary feeling right at this moment.”
Seamus stared at him, and after several long seconds, DJ sighed.
“Alright, I’ll take your deal. Put me down, I’ll text everyone and tell them I’m taking a few days off, and then we’ll go to your house where I’ll imitate a sloth under house arrest.”
It was what he had asked for, but still, he struggled to take that first step, every molecule in his body protesting at the thought of letting DJ go.
“Seamus? Do you want to put me down?”
No, no he did not. He really, really didn’t.
Chapter 9
“I’ll help you shower and then I’ll get you into bed,” Seamus said as soon as they entered his house.
Very slowly, DJ turned to the side and looked at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious.
The worried but guileless expression on his face indicated that he was. “Seamus?” DJ said patiently.
“Yes?”
“If I’m going to live here without one of us being uncomfortable, I need you to think about what you’re saying to me.” His husband was sweet, generous, caring, fun to be around, interesting, and hot as fucking hell. DJ was already half in love with him, so it was a struggle not to jump him even without the inadvertent sexual innuendos.
“What’d I say?”
“I worked a full shift today. I’m perfectly capable of cleaning myself. An act that requires me to take all my clothes off and lather my entire naked body.” He looked at Seamus expectantly, hoping that spelling out the steps involved in a shower would make him snap out of his anxiety-fueled daze and realize the implications of what he’d been suggesting.
Instead, Seamus just stared at him. A thirty-six-year-old man who had spent his entire adult life working in bar shouldn't be that adorably clueless and DJ didn’t have the energy to explain it any further.
“I’d love to wear my own clothes tonight. Would you mind getting them while I take a shower?” He felt bad asking Seamus to bring in his things, but realistically, there was no way he’d let DJ do it anyway, and at least this way, he’d have a task to occupy himself while DJ got cleaned up. Without that distraction, there was a solid chance he’d insist on washing DJ’s back and an evenhigher chance that, if he did that, DJ would bend over and ask him to be really damn thorough.
“Of course!” He turned around and rushed toward his front door. “I’ll be right back.”
With a sigh and a shake of his head, DJ went to the spare room, undressed in the adjoining bathroom, brushed his teeth using the same toothbrush he had the previous night, and got into the shower. Operating on autopilot, he made quick work of washing his hair and his body. Once he was done, he intended to get out, but the hot water felt incredible on his aching body, so he allowed himself a few more minutes to enjoy it.
Now that nobody was watching, he didn’t need to prop himself up and pretend he was fine, so he relaxed his tense muscles. He hadn’t expected the chain reaction that followed, but apparently letting go in one way resulted in all his defenses crumbling and the next thing he knew, he was huddled on the tile floor, arms around his shins and face on his knees, sobbing harder than he had since his parents died.
He must have lost awareness of his surroundings because he didn’t notice Seamus entering the room, the water turning off, or a towel being draped over him. Once he was lifted off the floor and cradled against Seamus’s chest for the second time that night, he realized what was going on, but even then, he couldn’t stop crying, let alone protest.
“Shhh.” Seamus pressed his lips to DJ’s forehead. “You’re okay. I’m here now.” He carried him into the bedroom, managed to keep holding him while also pulling down the blanket, and then he gently laid him in the bed. “I’m going to fix this.”
“You can’t fix it,” DJ said through his tears. “I’ve tried. No matter how much I pay him, he says I owe more. I can’t understand how the interest rate works or how to keep up with it.” He shook his head. “It’s impossible.”
“You’re right,” Seamus said calmly. “He’s making it impossible because that’s his goal.”
He sniffled and took in a few shaky breaths, body trembling. “What do you mean?”
“Jesus, you’re freezing.” Seamus stood, yanked off his shirt, and shoved his jeans down. “Scoot over.”
He dragged his gaze up and down his husband’s broad, thick body. “I’m naked and you’re gorgeous and…” All he wanted in that moment was to be wrapped back in those strong, warm arms. “Fuck it.” He moved to the side to make room for Seamus, and once he got in and pulled DJ close, he went willingly.
“You’re warm.” He wrapped his arm around Seamus’s waist and rested his head on his hairy chest.
