Page 70 of Garbage

“I love it. How did you get it with the slit in the back?”

“I took it back to the tailor. Remember him? The spark? He’s got half your wardrobe right now, but it’ll be done next week. And I found out there’s a company that makes clothes specifically for diverse android bodies. They’re expensive because they make or modify everything to your specifications, but I’d still like to order you some things.”

Quincy squeezed him back. “Thank you, Evan. And I have money now. I have a bit left from the grants, and Ben already helped me apply for a loan. He says I can pay off my whole contract with the city.”

“Quincy, that’s wonderful! Ben didn’t tell me any of this, that asshole. And we’ll have to find that clothing store,” Evan told him, already planning all the pretty things he wanted to buy, fitted to Quincy’s large frame. “Or maybe one of us could learn to sew.”

Quincy wiggled, and Evan had to grin. It was the first little hint of Quincy coming back to himself. “Evan! Do you think I could learn to sew? Could I make my own clothes?”

“Babe, I think you could learn to sew in a week and be a world-renowned fashion designer by next month. Or if it’s not your favorite thing, either of us can still learn enough to adapt things that we buy off the rack.”

“Ohhhhh… Evan! I want to try it!” His body stilled momentarily, and Evan knew he was already looking up tutorials and instructions.

There was Evan’s overgrown puppy, back where he belonged. “We’ll order a sewing machine, first thing. I think I have a friend who does some sewing, so we can ask about what else you need.”

Quincy squirmed and held Evan closer. “Thank you, Evan!”

All of that squirming, especially with those warm, metal hoses, was not doing anything helpful to Evan’s libido. But that was irrelevant, as long as Quincy was happy.

Happy and back home.

Chapter 17

Quincy

Quincy curled tighter around Evan, as if by holding him closer, he could just pull him inside his chest cavity and never have to let him go.

One section of his mind was looking up dress patterns and cataloging sewing blogs, but most of it was focused on memorizing the feeling of Evan in his arms.

He wanted to forget the last two weeks. To pretend that they’d never happened. To just snuggle in the cozy blanket on the couch and smell Evan’s hair.

Well, there was one thing that he might have wanted more, but he wasn’t sure about it now. Before everything had gone so wrong, there had been one glorious night when he’d finally figured out what all of his longing meant, and how it could translate into touching Evan’s body and bringing him pleasure.

Was that still a possibility?

The last words they’d spoken, in that final car ride, were a stressful resolution to talk about it later.

Well, stressful was a relative term, with everything that had come afterward.

But Quincy had had a lot of time to think about it, while he was sitting in that gray room.

Evan had never said he wasn’t interested. But he hadn’t exactly said that he was, either.

He seemed very concerned about Quincy knowing what he wanted, or what he would hypothetically want in the future.

And then there were all the things that Ben had told Evan, mixed in with his crash course in kink and dating: that Evan tended to date guys who didn’t respect him. That Evan deserved better than he let himself have.

Was Quincy actually better for him, then? All he could promise was to do his best to make Evan happy. That seemed like it was at least a little better than all of Evan’s exes.

Sometimes Quincy just felt so young and inexperienced compared to Evan. Technically, they were about the same age. And Quincy had nearly twenty more years of experience working, while Evan had been a child. But there were still so many things that Quincy didn’t understand.

Dating. Relationships. What Evan needed. And why, inexplicably, he’d chosen partners in the past who were bad for him.

Quincy really didn’t want to be one more of those guys.

And… well, he’d probably messed up by not talking about things more the way that Evan wanted. Maybe, if they’d stopped to talk first, he wouldn’t be so confused now.

Holding Evan so close, though, it was hard to think of anything but how soft his skin was. How good his hair smelled. How precious it was to feel his chest rise and fall with every breath.