“That was very intense.” Cody’s
head was snuggled into Luigi’s shoulder.
Luigi wondered for a moment that he had become the strong one in their
relationship. Him. An effeminate queen. Cody
was Mr Macho. Mr Muscles. Mr Straight-Acting. By rights it should have been his head snug on Cody’s shoulder, him protected by Cody. Not the other way round. But Dio!
he would protect him. They would find the killer and deal with
him. A thousand years of Calabrian
peasant ancestors showed in his tight mouth and hard eyes.
“What?” asked Cody, startled.
“What what?”
“You tensed up.”
“I was thinking …” his phone rang.
“…hang on a tick.”
It was Colin, the
policeman from Mt Macedon.
Luigi felt
absurdly, shy, as if the other man could see down the phone line and see them
both lying on the sofa in the aftermath of sex, covered with sweat and cum and
lube, arm-in-arm, sated with love-making.
“Oh, hi!”
“I’m on my way into
the city.”
Ridiculously,
Luigi felt that he didn’t want him now.
“Oh, good!” he said with fake enthusiasm.
“Is it a bad
time? I have to do this in my off-time.”
“Oh! No!
This is perfect.”
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