Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Writer's note: I published a new book where I put s*ut scenes between Darius and Trace. It's called SBF&L: but make it spicy. So far I'll be putting chapter 21.5 ,  chapter 22.5 (fooling around) and chapter 28 (this current chapter but in Trace's perspective).  It's all already written. Only ch. 21.5 has been posted though. The others will follow shortly.

WC: ~3.9k

I took an extra long shower after work the next day. If me and Trace were going to sleep together I needed to be more than clean.

Even after doing the appropriate trimming, primping and packing my overnight bag I was still nervous. What if we had the same problems we'd had last time? What if Trace spontaneously stopped being attracted to me? What if I threw up? What if I had a panic attack? My thoughts went around and around until I remembered that Trace was patient, thoughtful and definitely into me.  No one else would be willing to wait this long or be willing to put up with this much.

After our conversation the previous night I'd already called and scheduled sessions with Dr. Yaya for the next year. The sessions would be once a week for the first month and then we'd move on from there. It took me about two hours of staring at her contact and sweating before I was able to do it. But I wanted to sleep over at Trace's knowing I'd at least tackled one thing on my list.

It was weird that I felt lighter and more sure of myself after crying all over Trace the previous night. Answering my emails had also gotten rid of some of my stress. I still hadn't opened Isaac's email. I didn't want to rely on other people to save me anymore. Even if it was a really great job opportunity, I still wanted to apply for and interview at other places, too.  But, I'd handle that all after tonight.

I rifled through my duffle bag, double and triple checking I'd brought a change of clothes, toiletries, protection, and my favourite knitted socks.

I took a big breath before leaving my apartment and locking everything up. I knew trying to convince myself not to be nervous wouldn't work so I just focused on getting to Trace's place. It was about half an hour by train and I swiped my metro card before getting into the station and then rushed for the train.

It was a breezy October evening, but it was a Friday so the trains were a little more full than I would have liked. I listened to a soothing soundtrack to calm my nerves but I didn't think it was working.

Eventually, I was at Trace's apartment lobby and the concierge let me in. Then, all of a sudden I was at his door and I wasn't sure exactly how things would progress.

Would he just tear my clothes off as soon as I entered? Is that how things were supposed to work? No, Trace wasn't like that. He'd probably tease me.

As soon as Trace opened the door I realized I was most definitely right. He was wearing an oversized crop top that exposed his navel and the musculature of his flat stomach. There was usually a treasure trail that lead into his briefs but Trace was smooth today. And, fuck, as soon as I saw his shorts my mouth went dry.

You couldn't even call them shorts. They barely covered him from the front and as soon as Trace turned I saw that they barely covered him from the back. It was worse than him being nude because I was immediately drawn to the obscenity like a moth to a flame.

Turned on but also embarrassed I placed my duffle bag on my front and walked into the apartment. I made sure to keep my eyes tracked away from Trace's shorts. It felt rude to stare. But then he turned around and the crop top exposed the long line of his back and the sensual dip that lead to his ass. Hurriedly, I looked elsewhere. But then I wasn't watching my feet and I bumped into the wall.

"Oh God!" I groaned, moving carefully away from the wall. "Where did this thing come from..."

Trace guided me gently away from the wall and brought me to the couch. I sat awkwardly on his couch and it was only then that I noticed Trace was talking to me.  I blinked, but my eyes wandered to Trace's well formed thigh and I lost my train of thought.