A/N: So, so long. I'll explain my disappearance at the end of the chapter but if you're still here, and you've been waiting for the past month or so, I'll have you know that I am honored. This is also the longest chapter of steam I've ever written, period, so I hope you enjoy it. Absolutely r e c o r d-breaking HAHAHA.
I hope it's worth the wait. I also suggest to read chapter 43 again since it's been some time but if you'd like to get straight to the steamy shit, well then. Here you are, dinner is served. Enjoy.
Edit: I wrote part of the A/N on Instagram first because it's 12AM here and I'm ready to knock out HAHAHAHA. If you'd like to read it, please send me a request at hisangelchip on IG!
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[Leroy]
I look at his neck a lot.
He doesn't know, but he hides that area a lot; neck, shoulders—all the way down to his collarbone and the top of his chest. I think its unconscious. It's the reason he'd always liked his top button done on dress shirts and otherwise, wore turtlenecks pretty much all-year round.
We never had the chance to spend a summer together yet, and I used to wonder how he'd look like. What he'd wear. Things like that would play around in my head from time to time and subconsciously show in my gaze. So I look at his neck a lot.
Even googled about this once; why the fuck I couldn't take my eyes off that part of him and if there was something up with my preferences. Google said no. The places you cover up start becoming more sensitive over time from the lack of touch or exposure; that and people somehow end up dressing to flaunt the parts they like and hide the ones they don't. So being insecure about that part makes them feel even better when someone else finds it hot. Then, boom—sensitivity.
Made sense to me. Kinda.
Plus, I factored in the primary-secondary-tertiary source thing he taught me way back and did proper research. Still, there was going to be a limit to my imagination; eventually, it only went so far and having the real thing right before my eyes was, hands down, the better experience. Tenfold.
He'd said something about using the shower first and asked if I could wait outside, give him a couple of minutes on his own before I join. Him. There was something in his voice that gave the nerves away despite the confidence in his words. That, and the little waves in his eyes picking up with the wind. All I could think was wow.
The quilt he'd used to cover up—bundled like a ball of snow—had slipped off his shoulders and given me the view that would probably live in my head, rent-free, for a very long time. It was cute how he waited for me to turn around before shuffling out of the bed and leaving the comfort of that quilt for the bathroom.
By the time I heard the door close behind him and turned around, I saw on the edge of the bed a bathrobe. Perfectly folded, neat and tucked with no loose shit hanging around and stacked on top of that, his underwear folded into a square. White.
I paused for a sec, piecing things together and somehow arriving at the conclusion of him needing the extra minute because of prep and instantly checked the bedside drawer for the goods. Okay. None.
In my head, this was practically the repeat of our first dinner after those years apart and while the upside included me being wide awake and horny as fuck, I was aware of everything else missing from the equation.
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Wax
Romance[Sequel to Vanilla] Seven years later, childhood sweethearts Vanilla Julian White and Leroy Cox reunite in the City of London for an unlikely reason. The latter-once a burning flame unfazed by the wind-had, since a couple of years ago, left the heat...
