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“We’ll still have jobs and need to sleep.” He tilts his neck, humming as my stubble rubs his collarbone.
“Don’t ruin my fantasy with facts.” It’s hard to concentrate with him in my arms. “Planning ahead is overrated.”
“Let’s smash and leave a positive mark on this dreary place.” Sky rips his shirt over his head.
“Best idea.” We strip each other, and Sky leads me to the kitchen island. I lift him onto the counter, but his head hits the sink. Laughing, I flip him over and kneel behind him, but he yelps at a loud cracking noise and yells, “Kiwi,” as he dives to the floor. The countertop has a gigantic crack.
Nothing else in the kitchen looks any sturdier, so we try again on the washing machine.
“Rumor has it, spin cycles are the best.” I grip him under his knees.
Sky can’t stop giggling. “It sounds like someone’s taking a very loud piss.” He pats the washer.
“Fine, we’ll be boring and do it in the bedroom.”
We don’t make it to the bed. I pin him against the wall, and he jacks us together with the enthusiasm of two teens not sure when they’ll be alone again instead of two men who agreed to live together.
He pants into my ear as we catch our breath. “Sorry for the boring hallway sex.”
“I take it back. Sex and boring don’t belong in the same sentence for us. It’s more of an adventure.”
Sky’s cheek caresses my stubble. “Exactly why we need safe words. Mine’s kiwi. Obviously. I don’t want to be liable for collapsing cabinets. Two short syllables to stop what we’re doing while not killing the vibe. You pick one.”
“What?” My limbs tingle, and I carry Sky, flopping on the bed. “Too many words. Not enough brain cells.”
His face is bright red, and his brown eyes dance. He composes himself and gets serious. “I want safe words for sex. It’s the responsible thing to do if we’re going to experiment. I shouted kiwi out of fear for our safety, and we should establish words for our boundaries before things happen.”
“What do you mean?” I’m surprised he’s literally serious.
“Some people use the stoplight method: green for go, yellow for caution, and red for stop. Other people make up uncommon words that you wouldn’t normally say, such as kiwi; it’s not common and hard to use accidentally.” His fingers scratch my scalp and I moan.
“Focus. Pick a safe word.” He grips my hair to get my attention.
“Kiwis.” I humor him.
“We can’t have the same word! I say kiwi, it means slow down, or I’m not comfortable, or I’ve been tossed into an unmarked van and come rescue me,” he says with a straight face. “Pick something funny. Something you could say without everyone staring at you.”
He’s not giving up, so I take a second to think.
“Ball sack. Not common but no one will flinch if I say it,” I declare. He’s not impressed, so I give examples. “Smells like a ball sack. No smelly ball sack for me today. You try to work kiwi into a normal sentence.” I kiss the tip of his nose.
“I’m craving kiwi. Let’s have kiwi with lunch. I’m the type of guy who everyone believes is into kiwi.” His tongue laps at my stubble.
“Is that code for a sex thing?” I’m not up on queer lingo after years of pretending to be straight.
“No.” Sky crawls out of my lap and offers me a hand. “Let’s get the rest of your shit and bounce. If I never come here again, it’ll be too soon.”
“First, we’re sharing locations.” I stalk to the living room for our phones. “You can’t put unmarked vans and shit out in the universe! It’s irresponsible if we don’t do something to balance it out,” I growl.
“Oh Mav, talk dirty to me.” Sky tackles me onto the couch. “Sharing locations is so boyfriendy. Sexy. Whisper your safe word.”
He’s teasing, but I do, and it takes us hours to leave my old apartment behind.
Chapter 30
Skylar Engelhardt/ Lark Angel
“I’m good. Really.” I give him duck lips over video. The pose is so cliché and overdone, but it makes him laugh. I shift on the oversized pouf chair I got for my workroom. It’s for Mav, but I use it when I’m on my computer.
