Box Shaped Heart Ch. 15

By Laura S. Fox 

Copyright 2018 Laura S. Fox 

All Rights Reserved 

Gay Erotica 

Intended for Mature Audiences Only 

This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age. 

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Chapter Fifteen Doors And Walls

It was late in the evening when he finally went home. He had taken the car and driven aimlessly for hours, trying hard to ignore the mess in his brain.

Like a burglar, he sneaked into the house. Maybe Aron was already asleep and he wasn't going to offer any explanations now. He took off his shoes and began to walk slowly through the living room. Maybe he was just going to crash on the sofa.

The sound of a door opening and the light flooding the room made him stop. He turned slowly only to face a very quiet and angry Aron who now had many more clothes on him then the nights before. Funny, how he wished he could just stare at Aron's naked chest right now more than anything in the world. But the guy wore a tee, and he was clearly pissed.

"You didn't come to the hospital, after all," Aron said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Carter murmured as he crushed on the sofa.

He felt so damn exhausted.

"Where have you been? Where do you come from at this fucking hour?" Aron said, loudly this time.

"Work," Carter shrugged.

"I know you've not been at work until now, Alex. So I'm asking again. Where the fuck have you been?"

All right, Aron wasn't exactly shouting, but he was close. And Carter had a migraine that could kill an army of divas.

"Stop shouting, what the fuck?" he groaned.

"Have you been with Simon? Again?" Aron asked, in the same aggressive tone. "I thought you were through with playing around with that guy."

"Playing around?" Carter snorted.

He was so damn tired.

"I know that it must be rewarding for you to have someone like him lick your feet, but really, you should just leave that guy alone. And you should be more careful. You cannot always dodge rumors by claiming you're practicing hugging!"

Ah, so at least Aron hadn't been fooled by that cheap trick. But, wait, what did Aron know about the whole Simon affair?

"What do you think I'm doing with Simon?" he asked directly.

Aron huffed.

"You like to lead him by the nose. I know you like the attention, but I don't want to be called the poor cheated husband in all this. And that guy should find someone who would be interested in reciprocating. Plus, since you're not sleeping with him, like you swore to me you're not, what the hell are you two doing for hours?"

"I'm not sleeping with Simon?" Carter blinked in confusion. "Then what the hell I'm doing?"

"You tell me," Aron shot back. "Ah, wait, it's your amnesia!"

Aron didn't believe him he was amnesic. Aron thought Alex and Simon were some sort of buddies. And he was simply dumb about the whole thing. Carter felt so exhausted that he just wanted to throw in Aron's face that Alex had already cheated and that he had had Simon's cock up all his usable holes. But no, he had tried so hard to keep things in check.

So why weren't they? Why the fuck were things not in check? And why was his mother crying when she just had to be ... her usual self? Logical? Restrained? Always caring about her next exploring mission?

"Alex, have you been crying?" Aron suddenly asked in shock, his voice a complete one-eighty from before.

No, he hadn't been crying.

"Your eyes are all red and puffy," Aron hurried by his side.

"Just dust getting in my eyes," he mumbled.

From all the driving with the windows down. He had felt the need for air like he had been on the point of suffocating.

Aron pulled him into a hug, ignoring him, and damn it felt good. It was so warm in Aron's arms. He rubbed his forehead against Aron's shoulder.

"You don't have to worry about Simon," he mumbled. "I have it all figured out."

Sort of. Still better than nothing. Still better than cheating. He could not believe that scumbag Alex. Why was he cheating on Aron? Why the fuck was he doing that? Aron was ... everything.

He clung to Aron hard. This was not supposed to happen, but he needed Aron more than anything now. So he held him tight, just as tight as Aron was squeezing back.

"You're worrying me, baby," Aron cooed. "You're not your usual self."

Carter felt like laughing.

I'm not, Aron! I'm not your lying cheating asshole husband! I'm just your lying idiot best friend!

Words that were just meant to remain unspoken.

For the moment, he just felt naked. Not physically, but as if his soul was exposed and every little bit of it was left out to dry. So he just needed to take Aron's strong body and drape his bare soul with it. Only that way he could get out of it, away from his own mistakes.

His breath was shallow as he angled his head to kiss Aron. He could tell the man was a bit surprised. No, it wasn't a kiss like a peck on the lips. It was needy and raw, and, now Carter could admit it, if only for this moment, sexual.

This wasn't the cold kiss he had given Simon earlier. All his need for Aron was molded into it. He bit Aron's lips softly, despite the thrumming in his blood. Aron exhaled, and Carter pushed his tongue inside hard. He wanted to taste Aron, to eat him up whole, and make him a part of him. If only for this moment.

"Baby," Aron cooed.

He didn't care for Aron's soft words, for his worry and pity. He wanted, no, needed, something else. So he moved and straddled Aron's thighs, enjoying the way his crotch rubbed against Aron's silk pants, as he leaned forward.

At least, Aron had no mind to protest. Instead, his large hands wandered down Carter's back, landing on his ass and squeezing hard.

It was Alex's body Aron loved and cherished. But Carter had to make things right for his own sake this one time, and imagine how Aron would touch him, his body, not the one he was renting right now not by his own volition. How would Aron's hands fit on his muscled back? He wasn't as big and strong as Aron, but still, he was nothing like skinny, doll face Alex. He was a man, wanting and needing another man.

What would Aron think of him if he were to saw him naked? He still remembered the comment the guy had made about his ass. Maybe he really did have the type of ass Aron liked, although he had no idea how that could be. He didn't care to understand. He just wanted to have Aron, even if only temporary.

"You're so hot tonight," Aron whispered through the kisses. "Are you really okay, baby?"

"Is it wrong for me to want you?" Carter asked, painfully aware that Aron could not understand the question.

"No, no, why would it be wrong? I want you so much, baby," Aron whispered and began licking Carter's neck.

He was a fraud. A trickster of the worst kind. But tonight, he could not help it. There was just one thing.

"Condoms? Do we have any?"

Cheater Alex still had a body that needed to have clean tests results before sleeping with his husband.

"I'll find one," Aron put him down, a bit too abruptly.

He sat there, on the floor, not moving. He was insane, but, by the way his body looked in that hospital, he was probably going to die soon, so heaven could forgive him for wanting this, wanting Aron. The whole of him.

Aron was back and Carter let himself manhandled now, his jeans pushed down, and his body bent over the sofa.

"Oh, fuck, baby, I'm so going to fuck you," Aron caressed his ass, squeezing his buttocks and sending small shocks up his spine.

He could not be more beyond himself with want. For once in an eternity, he was honest with himself. If there was one single thing he wanted in the world right now, after he had seen his mother crying, that was not to lie for a moment or two.

Aron's fingers were cool and slick against his ass, and he pushed back, wanting the hardest part to pass, the one that he didn't want to think about when he was going to just surrender one part of him that he had thought was not going to belong to anyone else. The foolishness of that was almost painful.

He willed his body to relax. He had no clear idea about gay sex, but he knew how the human body worked. His nerve endings were raw, and just getting more and more overstimulated by each thrust of Aron's fingers.

"Ready, baby?" Aron whispered, his voice loaded with desire.

He had no term of comparison. He didn't know. But he wanted to find out.

"Fuck me," he said simply.

He clenched his hands into the leather sofa. Most probably there were going to be traces left from his blunt nails, but right now he had no time to think about everything. Aron was big, gigantic at his backside, and he wondered if this was going to work, after all. Perception was clearly skewed; he knew exactly how big Aron was. And this wasn't it. He just had to let go. Aron had fucked his husband. It wasn't impossible. And he needed Aron deep inside, he needed him so badly, that it had to work.

Aron was grunting, expressing his strain. It was obvious that it wasn't easy for him, either.

"Sorry, baby, I don't want to hurt you," Aron spoke.

"I want you to hurt me," he whispered.

Because then I won't be able to feel anything else, he continued in his mind. And not feeling anything else is everything I want. There's only room for you here right now.

Home. That was Aron for him.

He cried out in surprise as Aron's began sliding in, the lube finally doing its job. The sensation of fullness was maddening. Like he could not breathe, but who needed to breathe anyway? Aron grabbed his slender waist with his hands and pushed himself fully inside.

Like a sword in its sheath. Carter would have laughed at the comparison, if not for the stabbing pain in his backside. But he could live with it because it was everything he wanted.

"I'm hurting you," Aron caressed his ear with his lips.

"I want you to hurt me," he repeated like a mantra.

Aron eased himself from Carter's body, and Carter wanted to protest, but the man pushed himself back in, and weirdly enough, it was no longer hurting as much. The fullness sensation was still there, but it was like he was regaining some of the sensibility in his nerves. His ass reacted by squeezing the hard flesh inside.

"Oh, fuck, baby, you're going to make me blow too soon," Aron complained.

Carter willed himself to relax again, but, at this point, his body was taking over. He felt like an animal in rut, something uncontrollable. His cock was hard, slapping against his abdomen, with each move Aron was making.

Aron was giving it to him hard now. Carter moved his hands to grab his buttocks and part them as much as he could. He wanted more of Aron inside, everything, even though it wasn't possible.

"Damn it, Alex, why do you have to be so hot? Fucking sexy, I'll rip your ass in half if you're teasing me anymore."

No, it was perfect. Except for one thing. He needed to hear it, even if just one time. He clamped his ass hard on Aron's shaft again, milking the man with all his strength.

"I'm close, baby, I'm going to blow! Fuck, Alex!"

"Call me Carter," he whispered.

"W-what?" Aron stammered, but he was too far gone to stop his hammering.

"Call me Carter!" he shouted as he felt his eyes rolling in his head.

"Carter," Aron whispered, unsure, trying to slow down.

"Tell me what you want to tell him," Carter continued. "Please, Aron, do it!"

"Argh, fuck, baby, what are you doing?"

"Say it, say it!" Carter demanded in a strangled voice.

His cock was hitting the sofa, sending shots of pleasure from tip to root. At the same time, he was slamming against Aron's larger frame, swallowing up the guy's cock over and over again.

"I fucking want to fuck you, Carter! I want to ... breed you, make you mine!"

Oh, fuck, the condom was in the way! Carter swore in his mind. Aron breeding him, filling him up like Carter was his. That would have made him complete. He came in short bursts, clamping down hard on Aron's cock, dragging the guy with him.

He could feel the guy's cock pulsing inside his tight as hell channel. Aron withdrew after a few minutes spent doing nothing but breathing.

"I don't think I want to know what that was all about," Aron mumbled.

The guy sounded guilty. And Carter felt guilty, too. So, it had been a mistake, after all. But could one more matter when it was just part of a long string of wrongdoings? Going down in flames had to stand for something.

***

Aron had dragged him to bed after that, and he had slept fitfully through the night. Why was everything so fucking fucked up? Couldn't hell just open up already and claim his lousy existence? It wasn't like anyone was going to miss him.

Stop lying, idiot. The image of his mom crying came unbound, like a wave cleaning everything in its path. It wasn't so easy to let go, after all, now was it?

He woke up, feeling more despondent than he had ever felt in his life. Aron was no longer in bed. Maybe the guy just had to be early at work. With a long sigh, he woke up and headed for the bathroom.

Aron was probably in the kitchen, he thought. Or hopefully already out the door. He wasn't sure he could face the guy right now.

He moved about the house, wondering what the hell he was going to do next. There was quite a list of things, actually. He needed to see his real body at the hospital again, find out what the hell was happening, and the medical prognosis. Then he needed to apologize to Mark, as soon as he was back at work. He needed to cut Simon loose, without all the blackmail, if possible.

And he needed to talk to Aron and apologize to him, too. For him, there was no winning in this. And the more he had tried to make things better, the worse things had gotten.

What the hell was that in the door? He squinted. Luggage? Well, a carry all by the looks of it.

"I'll be away this weekend," Aron spoke, somewhere from behind.

"Why?" he asked right away.

"I need a small break," Aron replied. "Don't throw a tantrum, please. I'm coming back on Sunday."

"Don't leave," Carter interrupted. "I need to talk to you."

Aron set his jaw.

"It can wait until I get back."

"You don't have work today?"

"I'll leave from the office," Aron explained. "Alex, look," he added, in a firm tone that could barely hide his exasperation, "I don't understand what games you're playing anymore. God knows I've tolerated enough. But this is just too much. You can't use my feelings against me like this."

"You mean, the feelings you have for Carter?"

"No. The feelings I have for you."

Carter opened his mouth and closed it back. Everything was backfiring and he had no bulletproof vest.

"Do you still care about Carter?" he insisted.

"I do," Aron said aggressively. "But I've been trying all my life to walk away, and you, with your stupid games, are not helping. Really, Alex? Do you want me to pretend I'm fucking him when I'm with you? You really are something. No one could have thought of a better way to torture us both. And just when I thought we were starting to get along a little better. Well, you can't have everything. You can't have Simon to use as your personal ego booster, you can't have everyone kissing your feet or otherwise you get pissed, you can't pretend to be Carter so that I love you more!"

"Pretend?" now Carter felt a bit scandalized. "How did I pretend?"

And he had made so much effort to pretend to be Alex.

"Just last night. What you did was wrong. And what I did was wrong."

"How the fuck was what you did wrong?" Carter almost shouted.

He was the only one to blame for that situation.

"Because I really felt like I was fucking him, not you!" Aron shot back with anger. "And that is fucking wrong! I need to leave now. I don't want to say things I'll regret later!"

Aron grabbed his luggage and pulled the doorknob so fast that it was a wonder the thing didn't fly off its hinges. Carter flinched as the door slammed shut. This was going to be tough.

***

The trip to the hospital was, at least, uneventful. He could not see his comatose body, being still out of visitation hours, but the nurse in charge had let him know that the doctor was pleased that the patient was stable. Given the circumstances, a recovery was possible.

Well, that was good to know. Maybe he wasn't going to see his mother crying again. Yes, that was a good thing.

He climbed behind the wheel and ignited the engine. There was still time before he had to head to work. He just wanted to know, to see with his own eyes.

A few people in their late 70s stopped their gardening chores to look at his car, as he entered his old street. His parents' house was still there, hidden almost completely under the shadow of the big oak.

He stopped the engine and looked at the house for a while. Why was he here? He had no idea what he wanted, but he needed to see this place. He was lost in thought, his eyes no longer seeing anything.

A knock on the car window interrupted his train of thought. It felt so surreal to look at his mother through the glass. Her white hair was cut short now, even shorter than usual. And she was smiling, her usual smile, somewhat detached and distant. He rolled down the window.

"You're Alex, right? Aron's husband?"

"Yes," he said, his throat dry.

His mother nodded, with a sympathetic smile, but still waiting to hear from him what he was doing there.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry that I couldn't make it yesterday to see Carter," he said in one breath.

The smile faltered, the wrinkles around the mouth deepening.

"I ... Thank you, Alex. That is very kind of you," his mother talked, after a short moment of hesitation. "He is ... Carter, I mean, he is stable, doctors say. That's a good thing, right?"

It was like his mother was suddenly shrinking before his eyes. She was holding a pair of gardening shears in her hand, clutching them like they could offer the right answer.

"Yes, definitely," he nodded.

His mother let go a small sob and covered her mouth, dropping the shears on the ground. And then, Carter knew why he was here. He opened the door and got out of the car, catching his mother in his arms.

"It's okay, Mrs. Malis," he whispered, as he held her in his arms. "Carter will be fine."

She sobbed there, against his chest, for a while.

"Ellen!" someone called and Carter saw his dad walking towards them.

His father looked a bit disheveled, his trimmed beard the same, but a few strands of grey hair were in disarray as if the man had tossed and turned for the entire night, and forgotten to comb properly.

"It's all right," his father took his mother from him.

Carter remained with his arms raised, feeling bereft.

"You are?" his father asked, his clear brown eyes studying him with a hint of suspicion.

His mother made an effort to recollect herself.

"He's Alex, Aron's husband, dear," she said and accepted the handkerchief her husband offered her.

"I see," his father replied.

He was inspecting Carter with his scrutinizing eyes.

"I just came around to apologize for not being at the hospital yesterday," he hurried to explain.

His father just nodded and pursed his lips further.

"Thank you for your concern, young man. But now, if you'll excuse us, this is a difficult time for our family and ..."

"We should have never left!" his mother suddenly spoke, clutching the handkerchief in her small bony hand. "I should have never left my boy alone!"

His father seemed embarrassed by his wife's outburst.

"Let's get back into the house, dear," he dragged his wife towards the door.

Carter leaned against the car, his knees too weak to keep him. His mom's cries were ripping his heart into tiny pieces.

His father looked at him a few times over his shoulder, and awkwardly waved at him, as they went into the house.

He stood there, immobilized, incapable even to breathe. The sound of the phone ringing startled him.

"Hello, boss," Mark's voice came through the phone. "Yolanda is asking when you're coming."

He could hear the strain in the young man's voice. Throwing one last look at his parents' house, at the opaque windows, he finally managed to move and climb behind the wheel.

"I'm coming, Mark," he said wearily.

His soul was aching all over. His body, too. A sign of how Aron had been there.

"All right, boss. I'll let her know," Mark replied.

"Mark," he hurried, afraid that the assistant was just going to cut off the conversation. "I need to explain ..."

"You don't need to explain anything to me, boss," Mark said, a bit too brightly.

"I do," Carter insisted.

"No, boss, ..."

"Hey, who's in charge? I say I need to explain, that's how it is," he replied, now irritated with the other's deflections. "Or you just call me boss, because you find it funny?"

"No, boss," Mark whispered.

"Good. Make sure you're at your post because I have some explanations to give," he tried to invest his voice with as much authority as he could.

"Yes, boss," Mark answered, and Carter could tell the guy had already calmed down a little, which was a good sign.

***

It was a good thing that Alex's job only consisted of looking pretty, because if someone had asked him to use his head, he couldn't have done it. There was so much to take in. His parents were devastated, Aron had chosen to leave rather than stay with him, and he hadn't even said where he was leaving, and Mark was upset with him because he had caught his boss stuffing a co-worker's face with cock.

Typically, this should have been the kind of situation to make him want to curl under a rock and wait for the storm to pass. But he had no intention to do that now. It was up to him to set things right and hell, he was going to try.

He had no time to sit and talk to Mark until lunch break. Deciding that apologizing for what counted like promiscuous and unprofessional behavior over fast food sounded decent enough, he asked Mark to order some takeout and have it brought to the office.

When Mark entered with his arms full of nice smelling food, Carter was as ready for a confession as he could possibly be.

"You ordered for yourself, too, right?" he asked Mark, and his assistant just nodded, as he quickly made enough room on the large desk to place the food tray.

Everything smelled delicious, but Carter wasn't in the mood to eat and that was saying something.

"So, Mark," he decided to start. "Ahem, what you saw yesterday wasn't ... Well, it wasn't what it looked like."

"I didn't see anything," Mark looked down right away, fiddling with a napkin.

"Gosh, you really want me to say it," Carter shook his head. "Okay, let's try this a bit differently. Yesterday, and please don't interrupt me, you caught me with my, ahem, sexual organ inserted in the oral cavity of ..."

"Boss, it's okay," Mark interrupted him. "Really."

"No, it's not okay," Carter protested.

Using clinical terms wasn't working. Mark was closed like a shell, with no intention to give in.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, throwing his arms down in surrender. "I'm sorry for being a fucking douchebag."

"You're not a douchebag," Mark said back. "You just don't know how to say no."

"What are you talking about? I am the king of nay-sayers!"

"It's not all about saying the word. It's about acting on it," Mark explained.

Hmm, it was annoying to admit, but Mark had a point there.

"Well, I just wanted to prove to Simon that he can't get me hard ..., argh, what the fuck I'm talking about?" he scolded himself.

"Was that really necessary?" Mark questioned.

"Well, he wouldn't leave me alone, and also he's black ..."

Fuck, he was talking too much. Mark didn't have to know about that blackmailing bit.

"Simon is black?" Mark asked, looking extremely confused. "Like from a grandgrandmother or something?"

"No! I mean I don't know! And even if he was, that's got nothing to do with anything!"

It wasn't like he had some kind of interest in learning about Simon's ancestry.

"Okay," Mark said slowly.

"Sorry, I'm just making a mess out of this apology," Carter buried his face into his hands. "Look, Simon is ... He's a bit hurt right now."

"And why do you care?" Mark questioned.

"You, too, Mark?" Carter looked a bit miffed at his assistant. "Well, let me put the cards on the table. Simon may be a douchebag, but, before I got into this accident that left me a bit amnesic, it appears that I lead him on somehow. I need to let him down gently."

And make sure that he doesn't show those stupid pictures to Aron, he continued in his own head. No point in acting like Mother Theresa, but he had to justify the situation somehow.

"Ah, so he just wants to take it off where you two left it," Mark said.

"What? What's this `it' you're talking about?"

"Your affair. With Simon."

Carter gaped like a fish. He was pretty certain he looked like one of those stupid carps on TV nature documentaries. A stupid fish with an open mouth and an eternal surprised expression etched on its face.

"You know?" he barely managed. "Does the entire universe know?"

"No," Mark said, looking a bit affronted. "But it's my job to know such things."

"Great," he dropped his head on the desk. "My marriage is over."

"No, it's not, boss," Mark said right away. "You just need to give Simon the boot."

"That doesn't sound very humane, does it, Mark? Plus, have you ever looked into those puppy eyes? I'm afraid he's going to cry."

"Boss, you need to. He's just getting in your way of being happy with your husband."

Carter exhaled.

"I supposed you're right. But he might choose to go to Aron with some, well, compromising materials."

Mark seemed to ponder, but he remained silent.

"Well?" Carter asked, unnerved by the silence. "What should I do? If Simon spills the beans? Aron will be pissed. That's grounds for divorce!"

"Boss, you can't have your cake and eat it. You have to risk sometimes. Go beyond the fence and see what's there."

What was with this talk of fences? Mark was pissing him off. The guy made awesome coffee and was a godsend, but he was an annoying little shit, at the same time.

"No, I'm sorry, I can't risk Aron's marriage," he said in a heartbeat.

"You mean your marriage," Mark threw him an odd look.

"That's what I meant," he murmured and ran his hands over his face in exasperation. "I'll have to indulge Simon for a bit."

Mark made a small sound that could only be interpreted as zero interest in Carter's reasoning.

"That will not turn out well, boss."

"Don't worry, it's not like I'm sleeping with him," Carter waved his hand, annoyed.

"Only indulging him in trying to get you hard," Mark pointed out promptly.

Now he wished he could fire Mark. No, no, no, what was he thinking about?

"I think I found the solution," he said with determination. "Simon will just get fed up with me, and I don't have to have sex with him, either."

"If you say so, boss," Mark grimaced while he fished for the last fries. "But are you really sure Simon is going to break up with you on his own accord?"

"Trust me, I'll put that boy through hell," Carter said, quite pleased with himself now.

"That boy? You're what? 26? Boss?" Mark wondered.

"Ah, well, I'm still older than him," Carter replied.

"Simon is 23. Only three years ..."

"Yeah, shut up," Carter cut him short, but without malice.

Well, at 32, which was his real age, he could look down a little bit on 23-year olds. As Alex Ruskin, that didn't make that much sense.

"Will you support me on this, Mark?" he asked directly.

"You're my boss. Through thick and thin," Mark nodded. "Speaking of thin, you didn't eat anything."

"Not really hungry," Carter shook his head.

Maybe Alex's metabolism was kicking in. He was in no mood for food.

"Okay, you're forgiven today," Mark said brightly. "But I'll have to take measures if you're not eating right."

"Oh, really, I'm shaking," Carter joked.

Mark chose to look rather miffed at that blatant lack of confidence in his skills.

"I have my means, boss."

"I'm sure. Well, now you can get back to work, and I will just go sit pretty for a few more hours. How did it go with the barre instructor? I didn't ask."

"He sounded strangely relieved," Mark answered. "And he was very thankful for the free money."

"Great," Carter said, feeling pleased with solving at least one thing without any drama.

"I have all your schedule for the rest of the day," Mark said. "Would you want me to read it to you? There's more than just sitting pretty."

"No rest for the wicked," Carter clucked his tongue. "Go ahead, shoot."

His mind traveled back to Aron and their conversation from that morning, while Mark began reciting the string of obligations he needed to tend to.

***

The house felt eerie with just him there. But he was too spent to care. Friday evening meant microwaved food and going to sleep early.

On Saturday, he was woken up by an energetic knock on the door. How much did he sleep? Ah, well, it was already 9 o'clock and he could not understand how he managed to sleep until now. His sleep had been plagued by weird dreams again.

With a groan, he left the soft confines of the bed and headed for the door.

He stood there like struck by lightning when he saw who the visitor was.

"Master, I am at your beck and call," Simon said joyously while sitting there, dressed in casual slacks, and a white polo shirt that brought out his olive skin and dark eyes.

He didn't even say anything. He just closed the door in the guy's face. The knocking resumed. It was going to be a long Saturday.

TBC

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