What's for Dinner? By EM Lynley http://www.emlynley.


What's for Dinner? By EM Lynley – http://www.emlynley.com A custom ficlet requested by Addison Albright based on the prompts: elevator, trip, klutz and grin. If you enjoyed this, request your own ficlet! Read more or request a ficlet here: http://www.emlynley.com/free_reads.html *** Evan was exhausted when he finally entered his apartment building after a long day at work and ridiculously long line at the grocery store around the corner from his apartment. He ended up going to the more expensive corner store for the few things he absolutely wanted that night. Glancing at his watch, he willed the elevator to open, knowing he was cutting it close. Finally it arrived and he stepped inside. He was just about to turn around when someone barreled right into him. “I am so sorry! What a klutz! I tripped over the edge here.”

The guy’s cheerful but self-deprecating tone stopped Evan in mid-"fuck." He decided not to say what was on the tip of his tongue. “No problem.” The words didn't sound as if he meant it though. Evan turned and took a good long look as the guy reached over to press “11.” That was Evan’s floor. Evan’s gaze moved up the guy’s arm—lightly tanned and nicely muscled—to take in his clothing: slightly worn and perfectly fitted jeans and a pale-yellow polo shirt. He had a large brown paper bag in one hand. As the door shut, the guy threw Evan a shy sideways glance and planted his eyes on the floor-indicator readout over the door. Evan took advantage of the opportunity to take a longer look, noting the guy’s thick dark wavy hair and dark, mysterious features. Definitely Evan’s type. He’d be chatting the guy up in no time had they met in a club. They’d gotten only as far as the 6th floor when the lights flickered and the elevator shuddered slightly before it ground to a halt that unbalanced Evan as the small car went dark. Within a few seconds emergency lights came on, but the elevator didn’t start moving. After a moment his eyes became accustomed to the low light. Evan pushed the “11” button again. Nothing. One more time. Still nothing. The other guy tried jamming a forefinger into the button as well—like he was going to have any more luck than Evan—and then glanced at his watch repeatedly. “Damn. I’m going to be in so much trouble!” “Happens all the time around here doesn’t it?” Evan grinned, though the other guy probably couldn’t see it, “I don’t live in this building. Just making a delivery.” The significance of the large paper bag dawned on Evan. “What’s in the bag?” The question was superfluous. Evan knew what was in there: It was his dinner— baked eggplant parmigiana from Torino’s a couple of blocks away. He was so late getting home that his delivery meal had nearly beat him there. “Dinner for some guy on the 11th floor." He reached down and fluttered the receipt stapled to the paper bag. "Riverton. But now I'm not going to be able to get this there before it gets cold.” He pulled a cell phone out of a back pocket and flipped it open. Even in the dim light, Evan could see the frustration in the pursed lips. “Damn! No service. I can’t even call my boss and let him know what happened. I’m screwed.” “You gonna get fired?”

“Nah, my uncle owns the place, but he’ll dock my pay. Plus the customer is going to be really pissed off and maybe he’ll stop ordering from us.” “I’m sure he’ll understand.” Evan grinned. “So what’s in the bag? Maybe we should eat it before it gets cold.” “I don’t know….” Even in the dim light, Evan noticed the cute way the guy shrugged and the almost coy way he scrunched up his eyebrows. At first he'd seemed reluctant to make eye contact but Evan held his gaze and now the guy also seemed to feel more. “I'll pay for it, if that's what you're worried about. We can even wait another ten minutes if it makes you feel better.” “Okay. If we’re still here in five minutes…hey, does your cell phone work? Evan flipped his own phone open and discovered he had no signal either. “Nope.” “Oh, great.” “I’m Evan.” He held out a hand. “Uh, Nick.” He rubbed a hand along his pocket before tentatively holding it out to shake. Evan couldn’t help thinking the other man’s shy demeanor even more charming. The warm, firm grasp belied Nick’s outward shyness and Evan couldn’t help holding on just a second or two longer than strictly necessary. The next four minutes were pleasant, though slightly awkward. They would have met eventually at Evan's door, but this was so much nicer than having the guy simply deliver his meal, wait for a tip and then rush off like he must do a dozen times a day. In the meantime, they made small talk and Evan discovered that Nick was working in his uncle's restaurant to pay for culinary school. Even hoped Nick had made his dinner because the guy sounded like he absolutely loved to cook. "One minute to go." Evan announced. "Fuck it. Let's eat." Evan joined in with Nick's hearty chuckle. Apparently, he'd relaxed while they'd been talking. He settled himself on the floor of the dim elevator, crossed his ankles and ripped open the bag. It must have some sort of insulation, Evan realized as the intoxicating smell of garlic and tangy tomato sauce now permeated the confined interior of the elevator. He sat down next to Nick and took the half a sandwich he held out. For the next several minutes both men were silent as they devoured Evan's dinner. The eggplant was soft and cooked perfectly so it just melted on his tongue. Only lightly breaded, it was draped with real

mozzarella slices and just the right amount of thick sauce. Not too much garlic. He'd ordered the baked version, only allowing himself the less-healthy fried eggplant dish once a month or so. With his busy schedule, Evan didn't have enough time to work off high-fat food anymore and he was a lot more careful what he ate. Nick ate more slowly than Evan—he'd been around food all day and must not be famished like Evan. He took pleasure in the way Nick wrapped his lips around the sandwich, chewed, his throat pulsing as he swallowed. He imagined a lot of other things as the pink tip of Nick's tongue swept across his lower lip and poked into one corner of his mouth at a stray fleck of sauce. Evan finished his half and washed it down with bottled water that he'd just bought at the corner shop. He handed a bottle to Nick who accepted gratefully and downed nearly half in one gulp. Evan's gaze followed a couple of tiny droplets that trickled down Nick's chin and throat and disappeared beneath the yellow polo shirt. "Damn, I should have ordered two of those." Evan let out a satisfied little groan as he leaned back against the wall of the elevator and drew his knees up. "Ordered two? What?" Nick sat straight up and his body shuddered visibly. A glob of bright red sauce plummeted onto the middle of his chest, like blood on a gunshot victim in a B-movie. "Aw, fuck!" Nick grabbed a napkin and rubbed at his shirt, smearing rather than removing the sauce. "Oh, hey, sorry. I guess I wasn't being entirely truthful. I’m Riverton." "Wha—?" Nick's attention was still on the stain forming on his shirt and he didn't even look up as Evan spoke. "You're just going to make it worse. Try this." Evan grabbed a bottle of club soda that was still in his grocery bag. "This should get the stain out or at least keep it from setting." "Oh, uh, thanks." Nick cracked open the bottle and looked down at his shirt again. He quickly came to a decision and pulled it over his head and then poured some club soda on the stain, soaking the shirt and part of the elevator floor. Evan took the opportunity to enjoy the view of Nick's chest. Just a light dusting of hair—slightly thicker around his large, dark nipples— covered the smooth skin and trim torso. He was in good shape, though he probably didn't work out, more likely he cycled or did something more athletic. He didn't appear to have an ounce of extra fat—somewhat surprising considering he spent all day around delicious food. After a moment he seemed to relax and looked back at Evan, this time holding his gaze. "You're Riverton? And you let me think I was gonna get in trouble for being late with your dinner?" "Yeah, sorry." Evan shrugged and gave Nick his best smile. Just then the elevator sprang back to life. The lights flickered and stayed on and the car resumed its slow ascent, finally stopping at 11.

"Why don't you come in with me and we'll clean that shirt up?" Evan hovered in the doorway and turned back toward Nick, standing with his damp shirt draped over one arm. It was impossible not to stare at him and Evan didn't even try and hide his enjoyment. "I'm so late already. Uncle Reg is not gonna be happy." Nick pursed his lips and looked indecisive and Evan wanted to kiss him right that instant. "Don't worry, I'll give you a big tip and I'll make sure your uncle knows why you got back to the restaurant so late." "Just how late do you think I'll be?" Nick shot back a mischievous grin that let Evan know he'd been well aware of the interest he'd paid in Nick's body and returned it eagerly. "That all depends." Evan said and reached a hand out toward Nick, who followed him down the hall to his apartment. ----------------------------------------If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment to be entered into my monthly contest. http://www.emlynley.com/blog/?p=245 Visit me on the web for more gay erotic romance! http://www.emlynley.com More free reads or request a ficlet here: http://www.emlynley.com/free_reads.html

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