Page 81 of No Line Change

He allowed himself 45 seconds in the quiet car to collect himself. It was just a house.

“Finally!” Dylan was standing at the impossibly large doorway and grinning like a kid on Christmas. With his river-blue eyes and bronze hair glinting in the fading light, he looked like sunset over the lake. Absolutely stunning, and so much like home, Henri’s heart ached. When Henri got close enough, Dylan wrapped him in a big hug and kissed behind his ear. “I might just kidnap you. Lock you up and keep you to myself.”

I’d let you, Henri thought. He let Dylan grab his hand and pull him inside, kicking the massive wooden door closed behind them.

“As much as I’d love to suck you off in the entryway,” Dylan babbled as he led Henri through the foyer (huge) to a living space (massive) then into the dining area (humongous)—all open spaces with tall ceilings and clearly decorated by a designer with an eye for ‘make-it-stylist-but-jock-friendly’—letting go of Henri so he could continue on to the kitchen. “I just finished the steaks, and they’re gonna be better fresh. So we should eat first, then sex, then I can give you the tour and figure out where I’m going to get you off next.”

Henri, for lack of anything else to do, sat at the dining room table long enough to seat the whole team. The beautiful kitchen and Dylan’s words warred for his attention, but then there was a plate in front of him with the largest steak he’d ever seen, asparagus, mashed potatoes with gravy and chives, and three different sauces neatly arranged in their own little serving dish. Henri stared at the food, then hazarded a questioning look at Dylan.

“I don’t think there’s enough,” he deadpanned.

Dylan had just sat down next to Henri but popped back up. “I can make a salad—” Henri had to grab a fistful of Dylan’s sweatpants to keep him from running back to the kitchen.

“I was kidding. Obviously. Dylan, this is more food than I could reasonably consume in a whole day.” Henri waited until Dylan took a seat again, then placed his hand over Dylan’s. “Thank you. This is very nice. Too much food, but very nice.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked at the spread before them. There was even a basket of fresh bread rolls between them. “Yeah, this might be too much. Sorry, I cook when I’m nervous.”

“You’ve already had my dick in your mouth. How can I possibly still make you nervous?”

“Good point,” Dylan said. “Historically, I’m good at the sex stuff. It’s the ‘more’ part I’ve never really figured out.”

They ate a few bites of the truly excellent meal. Henri considered what Dylan had said. He wanted more than a purely sexual relationship and felt he wasn’t good at anything but the physical aspects, despite being such a kind and friendly person by nature. A man he was living with didn’t acknowledge their relationship, enough that Dylan seemed to have been successfully gaslit into thinking it wasn’t real.

“I’m not Sokolov,” Henri said. Dylan, who was reaching for a bread roll, froze, fingers still outstretched. “I…I won’t do what he did. Leave without telling you. End things without telling you. Whatever it is you’re worried about, I won’t do that.”

Dylan looked taken aback. Another clue to Henri that ‘talking’ hadn’t been a thing he and Sokolov had done together.

“I didn’t think you would,” he said, the words more confident than his tone suggested.

“The food’s good,” Henri said. He reached for a roll his stomach definitely didn’t have room for, but it made Dylan blink back into motion.

“Thanks.” Dylan swallowed. “It’s nice to have someone to cook for.”

They both fiddled with the warm bread. “I’m sorry I was avoiding coming over,” Henri said.

Again, Dylan’s eyes went wide. Henri was throwing him curveball after curveball, it seemed. “So you admit you were avoiding it?”

Henri shrugged. There was no point in denying it. “Yes.”

“Why? If you were okay with more, wouldn’t that mean coming over?”

“It should,” Henri agreed. “I suppose I just…” He sighed and gave up on the surely delicious bread roll. “I’m worried that I’m a rebound. That you are maybe still hung up on Sokolov, and I was scared to be, I don’t know. Compared to him? In the same house you two shared. I’m not Sokolov,” he repeated. “Not the good parts or the bad parts.”

“You’re not a rebound. Henri, I—” Dylan sighed and ran both hands down his face. “You’re not a rebound. I know you’re not Alexei. I also know there are a lot of rumors about me and Alexei, and yeah, some of them are true. But I’m not…I’m not trying to replace him.”

Henri believed him. Or at least, he believed that Dylan believed it. Part of him wanted to accept Dylan at his word and move on, but the other part of him would feel uncertain and restless until he’d gotten it all off his chest. So he took a fortifying breath and said, “It’s just…there are some similarities between us. Sokolov and I.”

Dylan pushed away from the table, his chair and tile floor protesting at the rude treatment, and stood up. Henri didn’t know what to expect, even as Dylan bodily forced Henri to his feet. Then his hands were buried in Henri’s hair, and Dylan was kissing him like the world was ending.

When the kiss broke, it was only Dylan’s hold on him that kept Henri from turning into jelly and collapsing.

“I like you, Luc-Henri Baptiste,” Dylan said, somehow not nearly as breathless as Henri. “I like you because you’re funny, and you’re nice, and you sound so sexy with your accent and when you speak French. You’re so handsome. Your big, dark eyes are just so beautiful when you tell a joke, and you’re great company. You treat me like you actually care what I think and want.

“And yeah, you’re a good center and I like playing with you. Those aren’t the only things I look for in people I sleep with. So please, stop doing me the disservice of thinking that’s all this is, and stop thinking so little of yourself. Got it?”

“Got it,” Henri breathed. “I, uh, I like you too. A lot.”

“I hope so.” He kissed Henri’s nose and started to ease him back down into his chair. “You can tell me more about it while we eat.”