Neon Yellow: Obsessive Adhesives by Andy EBOOK_AUTHOR Ali Slayde EBOOK_AUTHOR Wilde Page A
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evening? And... and Jason wanted to see him again. Not just at work. Socially! A date he'd called it. Spencer savored the word. Date—it conjured images of hand holding and kisses in the back row of the theater, of an intimacy that belonged to just two people... of a boyfriend. Spencer had never had one of those, but he knew he'd like it to be Jason. He felt comfortable around Jason and the kisses were... addictive.
Spencer undressed in his bedroom and wandered to the bathroom, his thoughts still centered on Jason and the events of the night. Would Jason want someone who wasn't knowledgeable about certain things? Could Jason be patient and wait? Oh God, what would Jason think about the rain check comment? Fuck. Spencer couldn't believe he'd been that forward, but it had seemed—right. And he did want more—just not this quickly. Hopefully Jason would be okay with that.
Spencer let the hot water wash over him as he grabbed the soap and lathered up his hands. What would have happened if he had invited Jason to stay? Definitely more kisses. Kisses without a console separating them. What would it feel like to have Jason's body pressed against his, naked? One of Spencer's soapy hands wrapped around his cock as the other one rubbed his right nipple. Closing his eyes Spencer imagined Jason's hands touching him, that hot mouth on his neck...
After double checking the alarm clock, Spencer slid under the covers and closed his eyes, certain he'd be asleep in no time. And that's when he smelled it. Cologne. Not the simple clean scent he used, nor was it the light sandalwood scent of Jason's that seemed to have imprinted itself on Spencer's senses. No, this was the harsh scent of cheap cologne. It burned his nose and throat—and it was on his pillow and sheets.
Spencer sprang out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. Had someone been in his bed? Taking the baseball bat out of the closet, Spencer searched every room, his heart hammering a way out of his chest. The sane thing to do would be to call the police and then go somewhere else. But where would he go? He couldn't ask Jason. And he didn't want to have the cops thinking he was some wuss, afraid of his own shadow—which, at this point, he was. Police officers snickering behind his back were not an option. No, he'd take his chances and stay in his home—his violated sanctuary.
* * * *
Sluggishly walking to his desk, Spencer wished he'd called in sick, but recent incidents had him uneasy in his home. He'd spent the night sitting on the couch with a death grip on the baseball bat, only the humming of the refrigerator breaking the silence. Spencer tried to convince himself that it was just his over active imagination getting the better of him. Why would someone break into his house and lie in his bed? Maybe Jason was right and the mysterious note leaver was a stalker. But why him?
Lost in his thoughts, at first Spencer didn't notice the now familiar bright yellow Post-It sticking to his coffee mug. The mug he couldn't find this morning when he'd eventually decided to go to work. He wanted to just pick up the mug with note attached and throw it across the room. Yes, even seeing his favorite coffee mug shatter would be satisfying right now. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the neatly written note.
Oh, sweetheart.
What a shame you had to disappoint me.
I put you on a pedestal. You were my pristine boy.
Sweet... innocent and virginal.
Now I don't know.
You had breakfast with him! You went out with him!
You were KISSING him!
This will have to end, of course.
I'll see to it myself.
YOU ARE MINE!!
Spencer pulled the note off his mug, his hand shaking. What the Hell did that all mean? I'll see to it myself . Was Jason in danger? Had he put Jason in danger just by being with him? Spencer looked around. No one was there, no one was watching him. Not now, anyway. He took a deep breath. God, this was all so melodramatic. For the last ten years of his life, people had essentially
Spencer undressed in his bedroom and wandered to the bathroom, his thoughts still centered on Jason and the events of the night. Would Jason want someone who wasn't knowledgeable about certain things? Could Jason be patient and wait? Oh God, what would Jason think about the rain check comment? Fuck. Spencer couldn't believe he'd been that forward, but it had seemed—right. And he did want more—just not this quickly. Hopefully Jason would be okay with that.
Spencer let the hot water wash over him as he grabbed the soap and lathered up his hands. What would have happened if he had invited Jason to stay? Definitely more kisses. Kisses without a console separating them. What would it feel like to have Jason's body pressed against his, naked? One of Spencer's soapy hands wrapped around his cock as the other one rubbed his right nipple. Closing his eyes Spencer imagined Jason's hands touching him, that hot mouth on his neck...
After double checking the alarm clock, Spencer slid under the covers and closed his eyes, certain he'd be asleep in no time. And that's when he smelled it. Cologne. Not the simple clean scent he used, nor was it the light sandalwood scent of Jason's that seemed to have imprinted itself on Spencer's senses. No, this was the harsh scent of cheap cologne. It burned his nose and throat—and it was on his pillow and sheets.
Spencer sprang out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. Had someone been in his bed? Taking the baseball bat out of the closet, Spencer searched every room, his heart hammering a way out of his chest. The sane thing to do would be to call the police and then go somewhere else. But where would he go? He couldn't ask Jason. And he didn't want to have the cops thinking he was some wuss, afraid of his own shadow—which, at this point, he was. Police officers snickering behind his back were not an option. No, he'd take his chances and stay in his home—his violated sanctuary.
* * * *
Sluggishly walking to his desk, Spencer wished he'd called in sick, but recent incidents had him uneasy in his home. He'd spent the night sitting on the couch with a death grip on the baseball bat, only the humming of the refrigerator breaking the silence. Spencer tried to convince himself that it was just his over active imagination getting the better of him. Why would someone break into his house and lie in his bed? Maybe Jason was right and the mysterious note leaver was a stalker. But why him?
Lost in his thoughts, at first Spencer didn't notice the now familiar bright yellow Post-It sticking to his coffee mug. The mug he couldn't find this morning when he'd eventually decided to go to work. He wanted to just pick up the mug with note attached and throw it across the room. Yes, even seeing his favorite coffee mug shatter would be satisfying right now. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the neatly written note.
Oh, sweetheart.
What a shame you had to disappoint me.
I put you on a pedestal. You were my pristine boy.
Sweet... innocent and virginal.
Now I don't know.
You had breakfast with him! You went out with him!
You were KISSING him!
This will have to end, of course.
I'll see to it myself.
YOU ARE MINE!!
Spencer pulled the note off his mug, his hand shaking. What the Hell did that all mean? I'll see to it myself . Was Jason in danger? Had he put Jason in danger just by being with him? Spencer looked around. No one was there, no one was watching him. Not now, anyway. He took a deep breath. God, this was all so melodramatic. For the last ten years of his life, people had essentially
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