The white McLaren pulled into the Hawthorne mansion's massive garage just as the first drops of rain began to fall. The sky had darkened from pale gray to a deep, rumbling charcoal, and the sound of water drumming against the roof filled the cavernous space. Theo killed the engine and sat for a moment, his phone pressed to his ear, a dreamy smile spreading across his face.
"Darling, I just got home. The garage is absolutely packed today because of the rain. Usually I park out front, but I didn't want the leather to get wet." He laughed softly, twirling a strand of blond hair around his finger. "The paperwork was so tiring. You have no idea how many forms I had to sign after that whole investigation mess. Kevin sent over a full apology letter, can you believe it? A formal apology. On district letterhead. I'm going to frame it."
He paused, listening to Kota's response, and his cheeks flushed that pretty shade of pink. "You're so sweet. I miss you too. I miss you every second you're not here. It's actually quite pathetic. Elliot caught me sniffing your hoodie earlier. The one you left in my room. He said I looked like a lonely widow waiting for her husband to return from war." Another pause, and Theo's smile widened. "Don't you dare apologize. I like being your lonely widow. I like waiting for you. I like knowing you're coming back to me."
He leaned back in his seat, his voice dropping into that breathy, flirtatious register that Kota always teased him about. "I was thinking about you all through that meeting. Even when Kevin was interrogating us, even when Delago was having his little meltdown, all I could think about was your hands on my waist and your mouth on my neck and the way you look at me when you're about to fuck me senseless. It's very distracting. I almost missed an entire section of the budget review because I was remembering the way you bent me over the desk last week. The budget review, Kota. That's my job. You're ruining my ability to do my job."
He giggled, the sound light and musical. "I don't care though. Ruin it. Ruin my job. Ruin my concentration. Ruin everything. As long as you keep looking at me like that, I'll happily let the entire school district burn to the ground. You're more important than quarterly earnings reports anyway. Don't tell my father I said that. He'd have an aneurysm. He's already convinced you're a bad influence on me. He said I've been 'distracted' lately. I told him being distracted by love is better than being focused on spreadsheets. He didn't appreciate that."
He listened again, his expression softening. "I love you too. So much. It's actually embarrassing how much I love you."
Another pause, and Theo's smile turned mischievous. "Are you alone right now? Because I'm alone. In my car. In the garage. Where no one can hear me. And I'm thinking about you. Specifically, I'm thinking about what you did to me this yesterrday. The way you grabbed my hips. The way you growled in my ear. The way you made me scream so loud I'm pretty sure the neighbors three houses down heard me. I want you to do that again. Tonight. On the phone. I want you to tell me exactly what you're going to do to me when you come over next. Every detail. Every position. Every dirty little thing you've been thinking about."
In the backseat, pressed flat against the floor, Griss was trembling with barely contained rage. His fists were clenched so tight his nails were digging into his palms.
Every word out of Theo's mouth was like a knife twisting in his chest. Darling. Love you. Thinking about you.
Kota.
Kota.
Kota.
It was always Kota.
Kota who got the sweet words.
Kota who got the flushed cheeks and the dreamy smiles.
Kota who got to hear Theo's breathless, flirtatious voice while Griss hid in the backseat like a criminal.
He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand another second of it. But he also couldn't move. Couldn't reveal himself. If Theo saw him now, crouched in the back of his car like a stalker, everything would be ruined. His darling would be scared. His darling would be angry. His darling would never understand that Griss had done this out of love, out of devotion, out of a need to be close to him that was too powerful to resist.
Theo finally ended the call with a happy sigh and stepped out of the car, his heels clicking against the concrete floor of the garage. The rain was coming down harder now, drumming against the roof in a steady rhythm. He walked toward the interior door, his massive ass swaying with every step, his lavender button-up hugging his narrow waist. Griss watched him go through the tinted windows, his heart pounding.
The moment the door clicked shut behind Theo, Griss scrambled out of the backseat. His legs were cramped from hiding, his black clothes rumpled, his dyed black hair falling into his eyes. He stood in the middle of the Hawthorne garage, surrounded by luxury vehicles, and let out a long, shaky breath.
"I can't believe I'm in my darling Theo's house. His actual house. The Hawthorne mansion. This is where he sleeps. This is where he eats. This is where he exists when he's not at school." He spun around slowly, taking in the rows of expensive cars, the polished concrete, the soft glow of the overhead lights. "It's amazing. It's perfect. It's everything I ever imagined and more. He's so close. He's right on the other side of that door. If I just walked through it, I could see him. I could talk to him. I could finally confess everything."
He stopped spinning. His face fell. "What am I thinking? I can't just walk in there. I broke into his car. I followed him home. I'm literally stalking him right now. If my darling Theo sees me breaking into his house, he might get the wrong idea. He might think I'm some kind of creep. Some kind of weirdo. And then our relationship will never flourish. He'll never see me as anything other than the criminal who broke into his garage. This is bad. This is very bad. I didn't think this far ahead. I didn't have a plan. I just saw the car and I got in and now I'm here and I have no idea what to do next."
He spotted a small door near the back of the garage and crept toward it, pushing it open to reveal a cramped broom closet filled with cleaning supplies. It wasn't glamorous, but it was hidden. He slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind him, and pressed his back against the shelves of bleach and detergent.
"What do I do now? What's the next step? I can't just hide in a broom closet forever. Eventually someone's going to find me. And then what? I'll be arrested. I'll be expelled. My darling Theo will hate me forever. He'll never understand that I did this for him. That every creepy, invasive, illegal thing I've done has been for him. Because I love him. Because I've always loved him. Because—"
His rambling was cut off by the sound of humming. Someone was in the hallway outside the closet. The humming was accompanied by the soft swish of a mop against the floor. Griss pressed his eye to the crack in the door and saw a figure passing by. Camilo, the live-in housekeeper. He was wearing a fluffy pink robe that hung open, revealing his smooth chest and the dramatic curve of his hips. His hair was wrapped in a white towel, and on his feet were a pair of fuzzy slippers. He was mopping the hallway with lazy, rhythmic strokes, humming a Spanish tune under his breath.
He stopped mid-hum and turned toward the end of the hall, where two other cleaners were supposed to be working. Instead, they were pressed against each other in the corner, their mops abandoned on the floor, their mouths fused together in a sloppy, desperate kiss. Their hands were roaming, groping, squeezing whatever they could reach.
"¡Ay, Dios mío! ¿Qué están haciendo, pendejos?" Camilo's voice cracked through the hallway like a whip. He stormed toward them, his slippers slapping against the floor, his robe billowing behind him.
"I leave you alone for five minutes, five minutes, and you're already making out like a couple of horny teenagers? This is a place of work, not a cheap motel! You think the Hawthornes pay you to swap spit in the hallway while the floors stay dirty? You think the Hawthorne family pays me to let you turn their mansion into your personal hookup spot?"
The two cleaners broke apart, their faces flushed, their uniforms rumpled. They muttered apologies, but their eyes weren't on Camilo's angry face.
They were on his crotch.
His robe had fallen open completely, revealing his tiny cocklet.
The robe was basically the only thing he was wearing.
No shirt. No pants. No underwear. Just the robe and the slippers and the towel on his head.
"¡Cállense! Stop staring at my dick and pick up your mops! I want this floor spotless before Mr. Hawthorne gets back from his office, or so help me God, I will fire both of you and hire someone who actually knows how to do their job without getting distracted by every pair of lips that walks past!" Camilo shooed them away with furious gestures, muttering under his breath as they scrambled to retrieve their mops. "What am I going to do with these clowns? Every single one of them. Useless. Absolutely useless. I'm surrounded by idiots and horny sluts."
He turned and continued mopping his way toward the staircase, his hips swaying, his robe fluttering behind him. His voice faded as he climbed the stairs. "¡Inútiles! Todos son inútiles. I should have stayed in bed today. I should have called in sick. But no, Camilo, you have responsibilities. Camilo, you have a job to do. Camilo, the mansion won't clean itself."
The moment his voice disappeared onto the second floor, Griss pushed open the broom closet door and bolted. He ran up the stairs as quietly as his combat boots would allow, avoiding the main hallway where voices echoed from several rooms. He passed a door that was slightly ajar and caught a glimpse of two ginger-haired femboys tangled together on a massive bed, but he didn't stop to look. He kept running, his heart pounding, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Eventually he spotted an open bathroom door at the end of a quieter corridor. He dove inside and slammed the door shut behind him, pressing his back against it as he tried to catch his breath. The bathroom was large and elegant, with marble floors and gold fixtures and a massive rainfall shower. But what caught his attention was the pile of clothes on the floor near the hamper. Shirts. Pants. And a pair of delicate, lacy panties in pale pink.
Griss's brain short-circuited. He didn't know Theo had brothers. He didn't know the mansion was full of other people. All he saw were the panties, and all he could think was that they belonged to his darling Theo. His darling's underwear. His darling's intimate, personal, sacred underwear.
He grabbed them with trembling hands and pressed them to his face, inhaling deeply. The scent was intoxicating. Fabric softener and something musky and something sweet, like vanilla. It smelled like Theo. It had to be Theo. Everything beautiful in this house belonged to Theo.
"Oh god. Oh god. This is his. This is my darling's. This is the most intimate thing I've ever touched. I can smell him. I can smell his skin. His sweat. His essence. This is better than the car. This is better than anything. I'm never letting this go. I'm keeping this forever. I'm—"
He frantically unbuttoned his black jeans, shoving them down around his thighs. His tiny cocklet was rock hard, leaking steadily, throbbing with desperate need. He pressed the panties to his face with one hand and wrapped the other around his cocklet, stroking fast and rough. The combination of the scent and the danger and the sheer taboo of jerking off in his darling's bathroom was overwhelming. He was close. So close. Just a few more strokes and—
The bathroom door swung open. One of the cleaners from earlier, still rumpled from his hallway makeout session, stepped inside and froze. His eyes went wide as he took in the scene. Griss, pants around his thighs, panties pressed to his face, cocklet in his hand. The cleaner's mouth opened, but no sound came out.