Black Velvet (74) (Patreon)

(IMPORTANT A/N:  I have about 7,000 words written for the upcoming Black Velvet chapters (which is why it’s taking me so long) so I’m releasing it in thirds, so it’s easier on me to edit and fix.  Thanks for your patience. These scenes are important to me so I want them to be well written.  I will warn you when the NSFW is coming because it is explicit.  I know everyone is ready for it but I’m just building things up as realistically as I’m able.  I also have other stories that I need to devote some time to so please understand!)

—

Tobias keeps touching me.

My socked foot accidentally bumps his, and he nudges back, then, his shoulder brushes mine, presses — my hand brushes his. He covers my fingers with his own to switch tabs, to add a space here, compare there... His leg shifts and slides against mine.

"I don't have a printer. I'll send it to you."

And I think about these touches, the way Tobias' voice sounds different when he's close, and there's no background noises or distractions. It's low and clear, with a Jameson steadiness,

"This is your email, right?" He hums, shifts again, and I fall into the slight dip next to him, and again — we press against one another. Again, I think about it. I nod. I've been doing a lot of nodding instead of verbalizing, and this is so weird.  "Sent.  You want to make sure you got it?"

He doesn't seem as bothered as I am or as affected, so I shake my head — then nod it, unsure of what I'm answering, but it's enough that I dislodge myself from my resting place, and his eyes meet mine.

I realize — I want to kiss Tobias.

I want him to kiss me.

There's something forward about doing that in a bed.

"Right.  Yes — I mean,"  but I feel like so much time has passed since the last time that we were alone with one another. I feel woozy with butterflies, the slow flit of his eyelashes making my stomach tumble nervously. Tobias' stare lingers — for so long that I cross my arms, for so long that I feel like hiding.  I reach for the laptop, quickly signing into my email.  "Got it."

He looks different.

The way he looks at me is different — open.

Here, in his own home, Tobias seems stronger, like he takes up more space. He looks like less of a mask — more emotive than a crack in a thin facade. His eyes catch and hold just the same, but so does every once subdued emotion inside of them.

"Why'd you want to stay the night?"

Well.  I wasn't expecting that.  I glance up, caught off-guard.  I feel shy, unlike myself, pinned under the scrutiny of his open gaze.

What do I say?

"Um. We were supposed to hang out... ?"  I grasp at questions, pull the blankets as my fingers curl inside of them.  "Then my mom sprung her housewarming party...."

"Yeah?" He lets a breath out that sounds odd, like he isn't saying what he wants to.  I keep running from our held regard, eyes on the wall — the floor, the pattern of my socks.  Every time I look up, our eyes meet again with something more,  "... I'm glad you stayed."

What do I say?

"Me too."

Tobias just stares, runs his hands down his sides as his eyes flicker over to the brightness of the laptop, straight ahead and back to me.

With the resume finished and the hyper-awareness of proximity coming to a head — my nerves scream for escape.  He looks like he might say something again — and if it's as stilted as our conversation has been, no thank you!

I shut Tobias' laptop, jolting up from the blankets. Unfortunately, unexpectedly and awkwardly, pushing myself off his mattress means trampling Tobias on the way, which he responds to with a healthy grunt of surprise.

"Oops." The locked eyes mid-straddle is something I'm not prepared for, just like I didn't correctly mentally prepare for this night at all — and I swing myself off of him with a nervous laugh.

"Um — didn't think that through...."  I nervously wander his room, trying to free myself from the shackles of embarrassment and my ginormous crush, both ever-lasting demons of mine.

Instead, I find Tobias' tuition fee paper.

"Uh — oh." I press my fingers along the crease. Mostly it's a conversation change—something to dull my nerves. But part of me wants to know who Tobias is here, in Huxley.  I smile back at him, "have you thought of what you want to do?"

"... I already have a job," Tobias hums with that, dryly humored. He's watching me in a way I'm not used to, like he's trying to figure something out. And maybe — he's sizing me up or estimating the severity of the weight I just crushed him with. "Two of them."

Yeah. That's probably it.

"I know, but you said you were going to school, too?" I frown. "Now that I think about it... That's a lot."

Tobias tilts his head.

"Not like I have anything else to do."

"Maybe, but what are you going to college for?" I turn to face him, paper in hand, leaned against the wall. "Did you have plans after school — or for school? Like, career-wise?"

Tobias takes a moment to dissect my ramble of a question.  Then, suddenly, he seems unsure about answering it. He scratches behind his ear, and I watch his eyes drift to the door and then to his window above his bed.

He reaches over to twist it shut.

"... I've got a couple of ideas."  Tobias is brusque with his response, makes quick work of a small pile of laundry in a basket near the door, and then opens it to let a mewing Poppy inside.  "I guess."

"Well.  You should tell me them,"  I crouch down to pet the kitten, who has just about as much as a concept for a time as we do, fully energized and rumbling out purrs.  "Unless it's like — a super-secret? Because if it is, that's okay.  I mean.  I don't have to know.  Though it might kill me."

Tobias chuckles,

"Not a secret. I just don't really know. I don't have a lot of money right now," He sits against the edge of his bed, "and it's a community college. So it'll just be a few classes for now.  I'll see what I can do with that."

"Okay. Pretend you have lots of money, and you're at one of the best schools, with tons of time." I raise my eyebrows to match his, and he snorts, looking away. "C'mon.  Please?"

Tobias glances down at me, his brow raising.

"Please?" He shakes his head, "I thought about...  You know, going to into the legal field.  Like I said, though. Stuff like that takes good money."

He doesn't sound particularly interested.

I pull Poppy into my lap and let her bat at my hands on her belly, waiting for him to muster up the desire to continue,

"... And I thought of something like — social work,"  Tobias sighs, leaning back on his elbows. He doesn't sound interested in that either.  Instead, he looks at me, lazy and open, and my heart flutters, "But.  I don't think doing something like that will... Well. You know. Probably not best for me."

"Yeah, that — that makes sense." I think of him dealing with people similar to Richard — or feeling helpless when it comes to facing those in a position like the one he and his mother were in.  I nod in understanding, and he shrugs it off.

While thinking,  my fingers caught up in Poppy's soft fur — he clears his throat.  I look up again.

"...I thought about becoming a history teacher, kids are okay, and it's always been..."  I blink in surprise as I absorb this genuine tone — his words, and think of the books he lent me.  Oh.  I realize there's still a lot to learn about Tobias, and probably for him to learn about himself as well. "Never mind — not a big deal or anything."

History.

Tobias' cheeks color a bit in response to my less than subtle surprise, and he dips his face against his shoulder like he's just looking over at his television set against his wall.

"I guess, I also thought — of being a diesel mechanic or something. I like working on things like that too.  So.  It's up in the air."

It's not up in the air.

Tobias wants to be a history teacher.

I stare at him, overwhelmingly fond of him and his aspirations, and wish he'd tell me everything he was thinking and hoping for all of the time.

"...I think you'd be a great teacher."  I picture him and his seriousness, replaying the attention he places into listening to my space ramblings — and him giving that gift to a kid, "I don't know a lot about history, but I like learning about new things. You'll have to teach me what you know — things you learn in school too.  Keep me up to speed."

"Yeah?" Tobias' head turns towards me, and he licks his lips,

"Definitely."

"Teachers don't make a lot of money."  He says, and I wrinkle my nose in confusion.  "It's not the smartest career choice."

"But you'll be happy.  The pay is livable, isn't it?"

Tobias sits up straighter, looks at his feet that sit firmly against the floor,

"I know I'd be okay with livable.  But would you?"  I return his scrutiny with a wrinkled nose. I don't understand his question.

He waves towards his room.

Why does it matter?

"What do you mean?" I settle his kitten down against the ground and stand with a little less grace than I was hoping for.  I glance around like somehow I can put the pieces together.

With my stumble, Tobias' eyes narrow,

"Oliver. This place is a shithole,"  he scoffs,  "But this is what I got.  Probably what I'll have.  So, I'm serious. Would you be okay with that?"

"More sentences, Tobias. I'm usually good at this, but your cute cat is fogging up the air with kitten magic, so, um.  I guess I'm confused.  Like, it doesn't matter if..."

"Would you be okay with this — that kind of life? With that sort of income?" Tobias interrupts, almost too impatient for an answer, "If I pursue something like that, I will probably have debt, and then — then I'll be here."

I hope my face doesn't translate how startled I am —  that it's something he's been considering, but my hands shake a little, so I cross my arms.  Words keep getting caught in my throat, and I keep looking over at Tobias, waiting for him to smirk like it's one of his jokes — but he's earnest, dark eyes a little worried.

"Ah... My mom's not exactly big bucks McGee, and my dad's...  Well.  You know. I already have this — that kind of life,"  I laugh, a little nervously, stepping close enough to him that I'm in front of his knees, "I live with my parents.  If you're asking me to be part of your future teacher salary lifestyle, that answer is a big yes."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. If you're asking me to be part of your life in any way, it's a big yes."  My brows gather, offended that he could think anything else,  "Always.  Especially if you're making choices that make you happy. Never worry about that.  I'm serious."

Tobias snorts a bit like he's embarrassed, trying to downplay his previous solemnness, but he tugs the bottom of my shirt until I'm between his knees. I feel his arms snaking around my waist, an awkward sort of hug —

But warm.

My pulse is dizzying again, stomach diving, and I cradle his head to my midsection with a quivering grasp.

He's hugging me.

Has he ever?

"So. This mean you're serious about me?"  Tobias asks me, his breath warm through my shirt.  I know the answer, have known it for too long, and every part of me feels like static. "You want a future with a shitty house and a wanna-be teacher?"

I hope he can't hear my heart.

"Tobias." I inhale. "I hope you know.... that it doesn't matter what I think. Okay? You — you get to belong to yourself. I expect you to be selfish sometimes. I want that."

"Selfish?"

"Yeah, um," I shyly touch his hair, like he often touches mine. It's soft. "If I want more — that's on me.  I don't want you to do everything for me. You know? Like. I don't want you to make every choice for me."

"I want you to make choices that you want to make.  I just want this," I flick his chest and then spread my palm against it. I can feel a soft thudding underneath my hand. "And I want you to be as happy as you deserve to be and for you to tell me when you aren't."

"You didn't answer my first question."  He raises an eyebrow, and his fingers are warm against my stomach.  There's humor in his tone, and I blush. "Say you want to be with me."

I snort,

"Is this like a check yes or no?"  I tease,  "Are you going to send me a note?  X-O-X-O Tobias, will you be mine?  Check yes if,"

Tobias reaches up, covers my smiling mouth with his hand,

"Oliver." He says. His eyes meet mine, and I quiet, "you really like fucking with me, don’t you?”

He lets go.  I blush, caught.

"I want to be with you."

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter  |  First Chapter