Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

dustpan and broom, swept up the remains, and threw it all into the garbage can. He was sure another new phone would be the least of his worries today.
    ****
    The black granite countertops were shiny and spotless. Petri dishes, test tubes, and beakers were perfectly arranged everywhere. Oswald, wearing his pressed white lab coat, sat on his stool and wrote experiment notes in tiny, all-cap print. He didn't look up when the door opened.
    "Excuse me, Dr. Culpepper?"
    Oswald continued to write. He adjusted his round glasses and failed to raise his head or reply.
    "Dr. Culpepper?"
    Oswald sneered. "I heard you the first time. Can you not see I'm busy?"
    A large hand with thick, long fingers plopped down on Oswald's notebook and blocked out almost the entire page. "I can certainly see that you're rude."
    Oswald finally looked up, directly into dark chocolate eyes set into a face framed by shaggy black hair and a hood. Mesmerized, he watched as the frown on the man's rosy full lips deepened. He wanted to lick those lips, maybe even see them wrapped around his cock, which began to harden at the thought. "Who are you?"
    The man's gorgeous eyes rolled, and he shook his head. "Well, if you're Dr. Culpepper, I'm your new apprentice, Aiden Pearse."
    Oswald instantly knew he was fucked.
    STAGE 2: Attachment
    Oswald ticked off the house rules as he led Aiden to the guest room. "No food or drink in the room. No loud music. No clothes left on the floor. No guests. Understood?"
    Aiden threw his duffle on the bed. "Just one question."
    Oswald waved his hand. "Yes."
    "Am I allowed to sleep on the bed? Or should I just curl up on the floor so as not to muss up the sheets?"
    "The bed will be perfectly fine. Just make it each morning."
    Aiden chuckled. "Sure thing, Doc."
    Oswald sighed, irritated at Aiden's nicknaming habit. He'd already corrected Aiden twice that day. "Just be downstairs in thirty for dinner." He spun on his heel and dashed for the door.
    "Yes, dear," said Aiden before shutting the bedroom door.
    In the kitchen, Oswald slammed one cabinet door after another. He'd originally wanted spaghetti for dinner, but he could only imagine what kind of mess Aiden's burly hands would make trying to eat it. Grilled chicken and vegetables it was, then.
    He was already furious, but the "Yes, dear" had just taken the cake. Aiden was like all the rest. He saw Oswald's slight body, average stature, and delicate features and immediately assumed he was submissive, needed taking care of. Oswald didn't even question that Aiden was gay. Oswald was never wrong about that.
    He heard heavy steps approaching as he plated dinner. Turning with food-laden china in hand, Oswald was again mesmerized by the bottomless eyes staring at him. Aiden's tongue swept across his lips, and Oswald momentarily wondered what it would taste like.
    "Wow, that smells delicious!" Aiden smiled and patted his stomach. "I'm starving. Haven't eaten since I got to the airport this morning."
    Oswald tried not to be happy that his efforts were appreciated. He placed the food on the small breakfast nook table and took a seat across from Aiden. Aiden saw the full tea glass next to his plate and took a huge swig. Oswald watched Aiden's prominent Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.
    "Oh, that is good." Aiden smiled. "There's no substitute for good sweet tea. One of the best things about being back in the South."
    "You didn't like San Francisco?"
    "I loved it. Nothing like being able to walk down the street and be yourself, you know?"
    Oswald didn't know. He'd never been to San Francisco. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he'd been anywhere he'd felt comfortable being himself. "So why did you leave?"
    Aiden stabbed his chicken with his fork and cut off a hefty chunk. "I missed my family. My sister is getting ready to have twins, our family's first grandchildren. I didn't want to miss them growing up."
    Picking at his food, Oswald thought back to his own family. An only child raised by older parents who were both scientists, he'd had no living grandparents as a child, and both his parents had long since passed away. At forty-five, Oswald was completely alone in the world.
    "Hey, Doc," Aiden muttered with a mouth full of chicken. "You gonna eat?"
    Oswald looked down at his plate and his perfectly cooked and impeccably arranged food. He wished he'd made the spaghetti.
    STAGE 3: Penetration
    "Come here little flu virus. You talkin' to me? Yeah, I'm talkin' to you. You talkin'