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Moving sucked big hairy rocks.
Sammy frowned and winced as a bunch of hairy, overgrown hooligans carried boxes from their apartment toward the van. "Those vases are worth a fortune, guys! A fortune!" He was beginning to get shrill; he knew it, but he still wasn't sure they should buy a house. A real house. In like a neighborhood and stuff.
What if everyone hated them?
What if things broke?
What if the 'net connections were horked and he couldn't work?
"Goddamn it! Don't bang that mirror around!"
Peter came around a corner, one eyebrow climbing up into his hairline. "Samuel. I think perhaps you should leave the movers to their job and come with me."
"They're not being careful, love. Those are our things. Some of them are incredibly fragile. What if things break? What would I tell my clients? My artists?"
"I could fire them. I'm sure it would only take you ... a week, maybe two, to do it yourself." One of Peter's hands landed on his back, rubbing.
"We could just stay here..." His head fell forward, the pressure exactly what he needed.
"No, we couldn't." Peter's fingers dug in harder. "We're vacating these premises and moving into the house we bought together. And you're going to like it."
"Are you sure?" It was a huge, rambling old thing and the light was beautiful and it was up on a hill and ... it was different.
Peter's breath slid over his ear. "I'm sure. Once you see the renovations I made on the big room in the north corner of the second floor, you're not going to want to live anywhere else."
"Oh." Sammy shuddered, eyes closing a second. "Tell me?"
"Only if you come with me." Peter'sarm went around his shoulders, leading him out of the way of the movers.
He followed, Peter--solid and warm beside him--leading him. Guiding him. Peter took him out to their little balcony and leaned against the rail, tugging him to stand between long legs.
"It's navy blue so at night the walls will disappear, and the floors are carpeted the same dark color in a thick pile." Sammy reached out, fingers sliding over Peter's face, loving the stubble, the way it caught his fingers. Peter smiled, nuzzled against his hand. "There's built in cupboards to hold our toys and a huge bed--I made the head and footboards myself, complete with custom made restraints."
"Oh, Peter. Really? Like a whole room to play?" A room to get into his head space and relax and just be Peter's.
"A whole room just for us, with everything we could possibly need. It even has a little fridge with bottled water and sodas, some snacks."
"That seems so decadent. So ... indulgent." They'd been making due with a section of the walk-in closet, with their own bed.
He was held in place by a piercing look from green eyes. "You deserve the indulgence, the decadence."
Sammy caught himself shaking his head, disagreeing instinctively, without even thinking about it.
Peter slapped his ass, fingers stinging through his trousers. "Stop that."
"Ow!" Damn it. He ... damn. Almost six years they'd been together and he still shuddered at that sting.
"No denigrating yourself, Samuel. I will not have it."
"I..." He blushed dark, eyes flashing over to see if anyone was watching. "Yes, Peter."
"Eyes on me." He was given another slap. "This move has you really rattled, doesn't it?"
He met Peter's eyes, staring into that bright green as he nodded. "What if this is a mistake? What if we're supposed to stay here? What if they hate us in the 'burbs? What if..."
Peter's mouth crashed down onto his, stopping the flow of words as their teeth hit and clicked.
Sammy held on, the world tilting beneath his feet as Peter stole his breath, his sense. Peter bent him back, deepening the kiss, promising him the world. It might have gone on forever except for the throat clearing.
He blinked, but he didn't tense up. Peter had him. It was cool. He was cool.
Peter gentled the kiss and then ended it, bringing him back up to lean against his lover. "Jason. How nice to see you."