Page 42 of Steady Stroke
The story about Eric and the fire had horrified Lincoln—not only because of Emmett’s loss, but because of how much guilt Emmett had carried since it happened. This misplaced belief that choosing to have sex had led to the deaths of his parents and sister. Lincoln hadn’t known how to make it better. He’d been insanely relieved when Emmett seemed to accept that he wasn’t responsible for their deaths. Being gay hadn’t caused it.
Fires were tragic accidents, not acts of divine retribution.
“So what’s that other thing you brought with you?” Emmett asked. The conversation switch effectively answered the question of whether or not there would be more making out in the near future.
Lincoln was okay with that. As much as he wanted to taste other parts of Emmett’s body, he needed to go at Emmett’s pace. Emmett wasn’t a blushing virgin, thank God, but he had alot of mental baggage to overcome. Baggage Lincoln was more than willing to help him unpack and put away for good.
“The QChord came yesterday.” Lincoln reached down and grabbed the black carrying case that had come late last night, along with a note from Dominic that every instrument needed protection. The innuendo had made him snort-giggle, before darker thoughts had taken over.
Thoughts that, coupled with his plan to confront Emmett today, had taken him on a brief journey this morning, via Uber, to a pharmacy for a home HIV test kit. The kit had come back with a negative result, which had lifted a bit of the anxiety he’d carried ever since his encounter with Tom two weeks ago, but he’d still visited a local clinic and gotten a real blood test done.
It had been an active, exhausting morning, but worth it to ease his mind a little. He didn’t want to put Emmett at risk.
“You got it?” Emmett asked, and for a split instant, Lincoln thought he meant an STD. “Can I see it?”
QChord. Pay attention.
Lincoln unzipped the larger, rounded end of the case and pulled out the instrument. It was shaped like the body of a guitar, minus the neck. He placed it flat on Emmett’s thighs in the correct direction to play.
“Good grief, that’s a lot of buttons and switches,” Emmett said with a little bit of awe in his voice. “Have you figured it out yet?”
“I have, actually. I spent the better part of the last week watching YouTube videos and I picked up some good tips. Playing it, though, is kind of a trip. My fingers want to do certain things to pull notes off strings, so I kind of have to relearn from scratch.”
“But you haven’t gotten dizzy, right?”
“Not so far.”
“Don’t say ‘so far.’” Emmett tapped a finger against his lips. “Positive thinking only about this, understand?”
Lincoln grinned. “Yes, sir.”
Emmett visibly shivered, and Lincoln catalogued that reaction for later.
“Will you play for me?” Emmett asked.
“On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You have to sing along.”
Emmett frowned. “You want me to sing?”
“Yup. I’m not used to being a solo act. Even before we were a band and just a pair of musicians, I’d make Dominic sing along during some of my practices, even though his voice is kind of awful.”
“Let’s go in my room, then.” Emmett glanced at the ceiling. “Adrian never bothers me when I’m in there.”
Lincoln’s cock, which was still half hard from earlier, took a keen interest in knowing they were going into a bedroom. Maybe therewouldbe more making out in the near future. Especially if playing got Emmett as worked up as it got Lincoln.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Lincoln replied. “Let’s go make some music.”
TEN
Emmett didn’t thinkthrough the mechanics of asking Lincoln to come into his bedroom until he shut the door, sealing them both into a small space occupied by a twin bed, a long dresser, and a computer desk. The room had once been an office space for Beatrice, before she took him in, and sometimes he hated that she’d lost her home office because of him. She’d told him he could redecorate if he wanted, but he’d never been able to do that.
Which was probably why Lincoln stared at the dark purple walls, bright yellow trim, and shimmery silver curtains that came with the place.
“I’m guessing this isn’t your personal touch?” Lincoln asked.
