Relearning the Ropes

Charlie pushed his breakfast around on his plate, tapping his fork against the edge of the white china and frowning.

"Is there a problem with your eggs?" Marcus asked. He’d followed Julius’s recipe exactly, right down to the Roma tomatoes and fresh parsley. Since Julius’s death, Marcus had tried hard to keep life normal for Charlie—to show him that nothing had changed. God knew Charlie had been abandoned—physically and emotionally—too much in his life. The fact that Marcus and Julius were polar opposites when it came to how they treated their subs had been jarring enough.

Marcus had painstakingly cataloged the contents of Julius’s food cupboard and stocked his own with the same items, going across town for some things. He had even gone so far as to bring some of Julius’s art pieces to his house so Charlie would have something familiar to look at, though he had to admit, he hated the brightly colored, chaotic abstract pieces. Although more than a few other Doms had warned Marcus that keeping things status quo was the wrong tactic.

"No." Charlie shook his head quickly. "They’re perfect. Thank you for cooking them."

Marcus nodded. Cooking. Another thing he’d had to learn. They’d realized quickly that, unlike Marcus, Charlie’s temperamental stomach simply couldn’t handle eating out for every meal. If Marcus didn’t want Charlie to starve, one of them needed to cook, and Charlie was far too timid and scatterbrained in the kitchen.

"May I speak to you man-to-man, not sub to Dom for a minute, please?" Charlie asked.

Man-to-man. A phrase Charlie had picked up from Julius. "You may."