Page 43 of Merrick

“Drawing what?” Wilder paused, working his jaw. “I don’t like when you make me ask questions, by the way. I know all the answers are right there, and you’re ready to spill them without being prompted.”

“I’m trying to be better,” Merrick mumbled, and it was true. He had been making an effort to stop censoring himself, and Wilder appreciated it was a hard habit to break. “I’m drawing you, actually.”

Wilder’s eyes went wide. “Me?”

“Yeah. I took a picture of you last weekend when you weren’t looking, and I’ve been using it for reference,” Merrick admitted.

“When did you steal this picture?”

“You were in the kitchen with a glass of wine. Sunday night, I think. I don’t know. I had just walked in, and the sun was going down, but it was still kind of pink outside and the light was shining in through the kitchen window. You weren’t wearing a shirt and it was just…right.”

Wilder remembered the moment in question.

They’d spent a lazy day together, mostly kissing and fucking and touching. It had been years since Wilder had wasted a day on something so hedonistic, but everything was perfect. They’d ordered take-out and it had just arrived. He’d gone into the kitchen to pour them both a glass of wine to enjoy with their meal, and Merrick had followed him in to see if he needed help.

“You looked beautiful in that sunset,” he said softly. “So, I’ve just been working on sketching that out. I’m probably going to paint it later. I learned some good tricks with the grading on that other sunset picture I’d been fighting with, so I think I can attack it pretty easily now.”

The other sunset in question was finally finished, framed and sitting on Wilder’s dresser until he found a place to hang it. Merrick had gifted it to him without Wilder asking for it, and Wilder allowed himself the fantasy of having a house covered in as much art as Merrick’s apartment was.

What would it be like if they lived together?

He’d spent the week thinking about it, a preposterous idea considering they were practically strangers. Just two men whohappened to be sexually compatible with each other. It was more than that for him, but that wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have with Merrick yet.

“I can’t wait to see it.”

His phone vibrated in his palm.

“I sent you the work in progress,” Merrick said. “How’s your day going?”

“Anticlimactic.”

Merrick chuckled. “I would hope so, Sir.”

Want flared in the center of his chest, and Wilder patted his sternum, waiting for it to pass. He reminded himself he wasn’t ready for the conversation.

“When do I get to see you again?” he asked.

“You tell me.”

“How about I come over to your place after work?”

“Do you want to stay the night?” Merrick asked.

“I do.”

“Okay. Yes. Please.” Merrick paused. “Do you want me to make dinner?”

“I’d like that very much. I’ve got to go now, though,” Wilder said to Merrick, looking up in time to see his boss approaching his office. “I’ll text when I leave work.”

“See you soon.”

His boss came by with a stack of work that was going to run Wilder straight through to the end of his day and well into the next. He fought through as much of it as he could, leaving the rest for the morning. He was eager to get to Merrick’s house, to take off his tie, and enjoy whatever meal Merrick decided to make for them. The day dragged, but it was finally five and Wilder was out the door. He went straight for Merrick’s place, finding the door cracked open and the smell of onion and garlic wafting into the hallway.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called out with a fake accent, closing the door behind him.

The apartment was still clean, which had him grinning with a sense of pride for how well Merrick had listened. Wilder had done a good thing with him, and he was pleased to see the results of it carry through. He bent over and plucked at the laces of his oxfords, casting them toward the shoe rack before heading into the kitchen.

Merrick was there wearing only a pair of baggy jeans. He had the top button undone, a dishtowel hanging out of the back pocket, and a look of focused concentration on his face. He obviously hadn’t even heard Wilder come in. Wilder didn’t want to startle him, but the light was perfect and he thought he might be in love.