And Kade reaches over, closing his hand over Felix’s. The heat of his palm soaks through Felix’s skin. “Keep it.”
Felix lowers his gaze, afraid to meet Kade’s eyes. He nods, heat rushing up his cheeks, and tugs the hats from under his arm. “Here, I brought us hats. That’s yours.”
Kade snorts, but he wears the sunhat anyway, a flimsy woven thing that matches Felix’s, from when he and Taylor had bought them at the beach. Five minutes later, Felix starts on his next painting.
When the sun begins to inch toward the horizon, Kade gets up from his chair, stretching. “Want some food? I’ll go to the store and grab something. And some vodka—we can sell that with lemonade.”
Felix laughs. “We can sell that?”
Kade grins, rugged and handsome, and Felix’s pulse thuds in his ears. “Sure.”
Kade heads back to the house, roaring by a minute later on his bike. He waves at Felix when he passes; Felix waves back, before hiding his face. It feels like they’re back to being friends, when they shouldn’t be. He’s pregnant, and Kade still doesn’t know.
The minutes drag by without Kade. Some teenagers walk up to the stand, buying a few cups of lemonade, and more joggers pass by with their dogs. The next painting ends up being a sunset by the beach. Felix smiles while he paints, thinking about Kade’s warmth, about his smile, Kade coming back to him. It feels a little bit like what they used to have.
Felix straightens when Kade returns, dropping a plastic bag on the table, before he rides off to park the bike. Curious, Felix picks through the bag—a bottle of vodka, a tuna sandwich, and a box of pasta salad. He pries open the tuna sandwich packet.
“Thought you hate fish,” Kade says, settling into the chair next to him.
Felix pauses, the tuna sandwich halfway to his mouth. “I... don’t know. I have an urge to try it. There, take the rest.”
Kade looks at him oddly. Felix bites into the sandwich anyway, and the fishy scent of tuna isn’t as awful as it usually is. He swallows, and takes another bite. Kade pushes the other half-sandwich back. “If you like it, have the rest.”
“But the pasta,” Felix says, guilt swirling in his stomach. “You don’t like pasta all that much.”
Kade rolls his eyes. “You ate my sandwich anyway.”
Felix blushes. “It’s fine. Have the other half.”
They end up splitting the food between them, sharing a fork. Kade pops the bottle of vodka open. “Want some in your lemonade?”
Felix opens his mouth to say yes, then freezes. “No.” Kade looks at him again, so he hurries to say, “I might have gotten hives once. When I was away and drunk. I’m just... I’d rather not be drinking again anytime soon.”
Which is bullshit, another lie on the mountain of lies, but Felix forces himself to meet Kade’s eyes.
In the end, Kade nods. “Sure.”
Felix should have gotten used to the guilt by now. He prods at the pasta salad, sighing.
“Tired?” Kade asks. “You puked this morning.”
Felix shakes his head. I didn’t think you were watching so closely. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”
“You feel better? Not sick or anything?”
“I’m fine.” Felix grins. Kade smiles, bumping their arms together.
The altered signboards—vodka lemonade: $7—get them a few more sales, and by the time the sky turns a velvety blue and the streetlamps flicker on, Felix yawns, his eyelids drooping.
“Let’s pack up,” Kade says. “Not selling anymore, anyway.”
Felix nods. They clear the table, fold the chairs and easel, and trudge back to Felix’s place, setting down the materials just inside the doorway.
“You’re working tomorrow?” Kade glances at the closed front door. In the living room, only one lamp is on, its weak golden glow stretching into the shadowy corners. “It’s late.”
“I am.” Felix rubs his eyes. He slips past Kade to the door, stifling his yawn. “I just...”
Kade steps up behind him, a sturdy heat. His arms whisper around Felix’s waist, pulling him gently back against his chest. Felix’s eyes snap open. They shouldn’t be hugging. He isn’t prepared for this. Neither is he prepared for Kade’s lips brushing down his neck. His heart pounds, and he wants more.
Kade slides one hand up his chest, rubbing his nipples through his shirt. His other hand drags down Felix’s abdomen, cradling him. Felix’s stomach drops. He thinks, Do you already know? but Kade’s fingers brush down to his groin, and cup him through his pants.
Felix moans. Kade kneads him slowly, working him, and maybe Felix shouldn’t be hard already. He can’t help it. Kade plays his body like a familiar instrument, unzipping his pants, teasing his cock out. He sucks lightly on the scent gland at Felix’s neck, and pleasure jolts down his spine.
Kade pulls slow and firm on his cock, massaging him until he throbs with need. Then he relaxes his touch, fingers circling loosely around Felix.
Felix snaps his hips forward, shoving into his hand, tension humming through his body. It feels wrong to plead right now, when Kade hasn’t said a word, so he thrusts forward, then grinds back, his pulse thumping when he feels Kade hard in his pants. So Felix pushes up against his alpha, and Kade’s breath hitches.
But Kade doesn’t touch himself. It feels wrong that he isn’t, because isn’t this just about pleasure? He’s expecting something after, isn’t he? He tightens his grip around Felix, stroking steadily with precum-slick fingers. Felix tenses, pulsing with need.
Kade kisses his shoulder, cupping his other hand in front of Felix’s cock. Felix hears Come for me above Kade’s ragged breathing. Kade’s teeth graze lightly against his scent gland, a firm, light pressure, and Felix comes, shuddering, pleasure surging through his body as he spills into Kade’s palm.
Kade groans, milking him dry, before he brings his hand up and licks Felix’s cum off his skin. Felix shivers, panting. Kade presses a damp kiss to his nape.
Before Felix can offer to return the favor, Kade growls, “I’ll see you around.”
He slips out the door, shutting
