On the Dotted Line

When college drop-out Paul LeBlanc first meets pediatrician Dr. Cameron Fraser at the emergency room, he isn't hoping for anything more than good news about his best friends' James and Alison's baby. He's more involved in baby Gabby's life than the average guy his age might be, but there's a good reason for that -- she's his biological daughter, a gift given to his friends when it turned out James wasn't able to father a child.

Cameron asks Paul to go for drinks, but Paul doesn't want to hope for more than a few dates and maybe some hot sex. As it turns out, Cameron isn't into casual sex, but Cameron also knows right away that what he wants with Paul is anything but casual.

Paul's life is complicated. He has a mountain of debt that no one knows about and just paying the bills is a struggle. He's sick of rummaging in the couch for change to do a load of laundry and worrying about when his junky car will break down next. Still, he suspects that the added complication of a boyfriend might be worth it if that boyfriend is Cameron. 

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The apartment was nice. It looked like a guy's apartment. There weren't a lot of pictures on the walls, or knick-knacks sitting around. There were mugs on most of the flat surfaces Paul could see, though, each one stuck full of pens. "You weren't kidding," Paul said.

"About the pens? No, not so much. Feel free to look around."

Paul did, with Cameron following him. The kitchen was small but neat. Actually, that was a pretty accurate description of the whole apartment, if you were willing to overlook the whole pen situation. Pausing in the hallway outside what had to be the bedroom, where there was a small table holding a lamp and two more mugs full of pens, Paul ran his fingertip along the rim of one mug.

"There's probably some joke there," he said. "You know, about what the pens represent?"

Cameron raised his eyebrows. "Let me show you the bedroom."

Now that was an invitation; Paul knew it even though he hadn't had that many of them over the years. Oh, he'd had a dozen or so partners, sure, but never in the real sense of the word. They'd mostly been one-night stands, or on a few occasions two or three night stands. It was a way to get off, it felt good, but it hadn't ever been anything more than that.

Somehow, he thought this might be, and it scared the hell out of him.

They were in the bedroom by then, his eyes already taking in what there was to see. The bed was made, the brown comforter pulled up neatly, and there was another collection of pen-mugs on the bedside table. Cameron turned him so they were facing each other, one hand on Paul's hip. In good lighting, up close, Cameron's eyes were very green.

"Can I kiss you?" Cameron asked.

Paul nodded; his breath caught as Cameron's mouth met his. It was a slow kiss, like Cameron wanted to take his time, and when it was over Paul was hard. He licked his lips -- Cameron's tasted like beer. "Kiss me again?"

Cameron did. Halfway through he seemed to get carried away, one hand on Paul's back and the other on his ass, not that Paul was complaining. God, it felt good to be touched, to be wanted. "I never do this," Cameron murmured.

"What?" Paul asked. "Kiss people?"

"That, too." Cameron was hard inside his slacks, pressed up against Paul's own erection. "I don't date. I'm too busy. And I don't sleep with anyone casually, ever."

Paul pulled back and looked at him. "Ever? Seriously?"

"I know, I was born in the wrong century." Cameron sounded faintly embarrassed, but he didn't look away from Paul's gaze. He kissed Paul again, a little bit desperately, like he couldn't get enough of him. "Can this be something more than casual?"

"I don't know," Paul said, moving his mouth to Cameron's jaw. "Which isn't a no, it's just... I think it can. I hope it can."

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