Praise for the writing of Stephanie Vaughan
Sierra Secrets: Cruel to be Kind
With a bit of BDSM, Cruel to be Kind is a scorcher not to be missed. Steve's love life has been boring lately, but meeting Megan instantly spices it up. She's not afraid to speak what's on her mind -- or to do outrageous things that turn Steve on… With hot action and an enjoyable plot, don't miss the wonderfully fun Cruel to be Kind. -- Patti Fischer, Romance Reviews Today WOW! Stephanie Vaughan’s second story about an Eriksson brother is incredibly HOT. Steve’s character is wonderful but clueless… Megan is written with an authority and control that is mesmerizing. I wanted Megan to tell me what to do and I was just reading the book. -- Julie Esparza, Just Erotic Romance Reviews What is so strong about this book is how well Vaughan gets into the heads of both of her point of view characters. She explores the issue of trust and wise practices of those in the lifestyle... Add to this the layers of complexities brought on by the nature of the D/s relationship--especially with a newly submissive man--and you have some idea of the scope of this fascinating read. I would surely recommend this to anyone interested in the BDSM genre, or for anyone who thinks they might be interested in exploring the power exchange. -- Maîtresse, Novelspot
Cruel To Be Kind will open your eyes to the role reversal that can occur during intimacy. Both of these characters are complex in their personalities and go to great depths to explore what is going on between them. If you like sexually erotic stories with compassion, this is a must read. -- Briana, Fallen Angel Reviews
Sierra Secrets: Cruel to be Kind is now available from Loose Id.
JUMPING THE FENCE
Stephanie Vaughan
www.loose-id.com
Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
***** This book is rated:
For substantial explicit sexuality, graphic language, and material that may offend some readers (homoerotic sex).
Jumping the Fence Stephanie Vaughan This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com
Copyright © February 2005 by Stephanie Vaughan All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 1-59632-093-1 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Linda Kusiolek Cover Artist: April Martinez
Dedication For
Linda,
who
always
believed.
And
for
Raven,
who
knows
why.
Chapter One
Lips tugged on the bare tip of his cock. Ever so sweetly, they lured him in. A warm, wet tongue took delicate swipes at the shaft before dropping back to lick the first drops of pearly liquid coaxed from the tip. Flattening out to press firmly across the whole head, that provocative tongue needed no words to work its siren call -- just firm, unyielding strokes by someone who knew exactly what it was doing to him. Fingers that were not at all shy gripped him around the base as more fingers cradled his balls with a gentle squeeze. The pressure on his testicles grew stronger by slow, unstoppable degrees as the lips returned to torture his poor cockhead, pushing against it like the tightest pussy he’d ever felt but never quite taking it in. Kevin couldn’t hold back the slow rocking of his hips as he tried to breach the opening. Skillful fingers tightened around the skin of his shaft like a human cock ring as the gates of heaven slowly opened and he slid balls-deep into the hottest, wettest mouth God ever made. Tongue stroking strongly against the vein that ran along the bottom, suction and heat drew him ever downward. How could he be in so far? Waves of muscle tickled the head of his cock, and the idea of being swallowed so deep made him feel like his head might explode. Heat, suction, and
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wet, wet mouth all worked on him so that when the low humming began in the throat surrounding his dick, Kevin knew he was about to come. But the constricting fingers made that impossible. Hips rocking harder now, the humming created a buzz that traveled up his cock and settled in his balls, being squeezed ever more tightly. The pressure built steadily until -- at last -- the constriction was gone, and his cock, freed at last, exploded. Kevin came in a torrent, shooting hot spurts of cum down his partner’s throat. When the tugging on his cock began to slowly ebb, the ringing in his ears quieted enough for Kevin to realize that the humming had changed to a purr. The lips came off his cock with a satisfied smack, and a very masculine voice drifted up to him. “Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Kevin’s eyes came open at the sound of the voice, and he realized he’d dreamed the whole thing. The weak winter sun shone on his back, and he knew he must have fallen asleep. The best blowjob of his life, and it was all a fantasy. He didn’t know whether to sigh with relief or cry in frustration. As intense as the whole thing had been, he should probably be thankful it hadn’t been a wet dream. “Hey, Beltrán -- you coming?” The door leading out to the patio off the lunchroom stood open, and the new guy, Durrance, leaned his head and shoulders out. “We’ve got a one o’clock meeting.” “Yeah. I’ll be there.” Shit. Kevin tossed the remains of his lunch in the trash and wondered how long Durrance been standing there. How much had he seen?
***** Slipping in through the conference room’s back door, Kevin tried for unobtrusive, a tough pull at six-foot-one. Still, the meeting was a big one and there were probably fifteen people gathered around the room’s big oak table. No time to hunt for a seat, Kevin grabbed
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the first available -- next to Durrance, naturally. The pre-meeting banter was just beginning to die down as he dropped into the vacant chair. “Thanks for making time, y’all. I know everybody’s super busy, but I’d like to get an update from everyone on where y’all stand with the transition. Margaret, could we start with you?” Still unsettled by his dream, Kevin only glanced briefly at Helen at the head of the table before allowing his gaze to focus on the notebook he’d brought with him, and his thoughts to wander. It would take a good twenty minutes for Helen, the project’s lead, to work her way around the table to him. That meant he had eighteen minutes to ruminate on what the hell was wrong with him. It wasn’t like he was gay, or anything. Fuck, no. As much as they drove him crazy, he’d always done fine with women. Kevin knew he was okay-looking. He was no Brad Pitt, but wasn’t a troll, either. Women liked him fine. But, Jesus, lately they were driving him over the edge. They wanted it. They didn’t want it. They didn’t do it on the first date. Didn’t give head. Could they just kiss? Not with the lights on. It made his head want to implode just thinking about it. Whatever they possessed that passed for a thought process was totally alien to him. Maybe that was why, more and more lately, Kevin found himself thinking about other guys. Not like in a gay way, or anything. But just about meeting up with another guy. Maybe stroking each other’s tools. Checking it out. He’d like to give a hand job. Or a b.j. God. Just thinking about it got him hard. The chair next to him creaked as Durrance chose that moment to shift in his seat. Kevin’s eyes flicked automatically to the new guy’s crotch. An image of what the other man might have hidden there flashed into Kevin’s mind. In an instant, he pictured himself running his fingers down the sides of it. Feeling the fully engorged shape of it. Comparing it
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to his own. Would it be short and thick? Long and curved? What about the color? And the taste? He imagined taking it into his mouth ... Christ! He yanked his thoughts back to the meeting. Rodriguez from Marketing was droning on, as usual. Kevin hoped what he’d been thinking didn’t show on his face, and glanced over at Durrance. The other man was looking back at him.
Oh, shit. He couldn’t help himself. Kevin looked back. And felt his cock, already half hard from his fantasizing, swell even more. Durrance’s gaze dipped for the briefest splitsecond to Kevin’s lap, where, Kevin knew, his baggy chinos couldn’t entirely hide what was happening to him. The expression on the other man’s face didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes, and Kevin knew that he knew. Shit, shit, shit. Kevin closed his eyes and looked away just as Bhapodra from Finance, sitting next to him, began his report. Shit, shit, shit.
***** “So what seems to be the problem?” Kevin looked up from the report he’d been reading to find -- didn’t it just figure? -Durrance in the doorway. “No idea. Hard disk, maybe? When I came back to my desk after the one o’clock meeting, it was like this. Beeping and whirring, but it won’t boot up.” “Let me take a look.” Durrance shoved away from the doorframe and stepped into Kevin’s space for the first time. Although they’d been introduced when Durrance had come on board two weeks before, Kevin’s unit was involved primarily in data analysis, while Durrance had been
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brought in to ride herd on the geeks down in IT. The new guy stood out for a lot of reasons, not the least of which were his bleached blond hair and casual clothes. Kevin shoved his chair back from his desk, giving the other man room to work. “How’d you get stuck with a service call? I would have thought one of the techs could have handled this.” Narrowing his eyes and canting his head to the side a bit, Durrance sized up the ailing computer before crouching down to get a closer look. As a midlevel manager, Kevin didn’t rate one of the premium offices, making do with a cramped room near the back. Thankful that he at least rated four walls and a door, he’d never been particularly bothered by the lack of space. In fact, he secretly appreciated that the small space meant he was rarely bothered and meetings were always held somewhere else. Not exactly a hermit, still, he valued his privacy. Like now, for instance. Although he’d shoved his chair back as far as it would go, there wasn’t much room. From this angle, Kevin could see the dark roots of Durrance’s natural hair color and, lower, the elastic edge of his underwear where his squat caused his pants to gap. While no one at EcoDyne would ever be asked to pose for GQ, even so, Durrance stood out. A near total lack of style, hair that looked like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, and wire-rim glasses that might have been lifted from a museum display dedicated to the Grateful Dead should have drawn chuckles, at the least. Maybe it was the man’s air of confidence and competence, but ridicule was the farthest thing from Kevin’s mind. Or maybe it was the lingering effects of his lunchtime dream, because the sight of Durrance’s blond head inches from his crotch brought the pulsing back to Kevin’s cock. Sitting with his legs spread as wide as he could get them while Durrance poked at the ailing computer tower brought a tingle to his balls and a twitch to his dick.
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If the other man stayed where he was for much longer, things could get embarrassing. Kevin knew he should stand up and move away. But he couldn’t. He found himself mesmerized by the pleasurable pulsing as blood flowed into his cock. Resting one arm on the balky computer, Durrance turned his body toward Kevin. A slight smile curved his lips as he pronounced his verdict. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it doesn’t look good. I hope you had everything saved to the group server?” His voice turned the statement into a question, but Kevin was struck by the goodhumored twinkle in Durrance’s eyes. He’d never noticed their warm hazel color before. Partly because he’d never been this close, but also because the light from the room’s one small window, placed high on the wall, lit them perfectly. The half-smile drew attention to lips that, although on the thin side, looked perfectly acceptable.
Acceptable for what? “You didn’t save to the server?” Kevin realized he’d been asked a question and had been so involved in his rapt contemplation of Durrance’s face, he hadn’t answered. “Uh ... no.” Durrance looked in no rush to rise from his squat, and Kevin was sure his rapidly burgeoning hard-on must be close to detectable, if it wasn’t there already. But damn if he’d look down to check. “I’ll do my best. But ... They should have told you to back-up regularly to the H-drive.” Realizing there was no way to avoid looking like a buffoon, he opted for bald-faced honesty. “They probably did. But it’s just easier ...” Durrance’s lips twisted into a gently mocking grin. “Yeah, I know. I’m an idiot.” “Nah, from what I hear, it was probably our fault. IT hasn’t always been consistent in what we’ve told people.” Turning to the computer tower, Durrance called back over his shoulder. “Can you work without this for the rest of the day? I’ll see what I can salvage off
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your hard-drive. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” As he talked, the other man began unplugging the various cords that ran to the back of the machine. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I’ve got a lot of historical stuff -- Oh, shit.” Kevin caught himself in time to prevent actually slapping his own forehead, but wanted to. Durrance turned back, looking up. “What’d you just remember?” “Crap. The whole client analysis for the transition meeting. Dammit. That’s a whole shitload of work to have to recreate.”
Was Durrance sneaking a peak? “I’ll see what I can do. I should know something before the end of the day. What time do you go home?” “Five-thirty. I appreciate it, man. You got it?” Durrance had pulled the unit out from its home under Kevin’s desk and was pressing to a stand. Just heavy enough to have to think about, Durrance’s surprisingly buff thighs showed through the worn fabric of his khakis as the muscles bunched and flexed. “Got it.” He carried the machine to the door. “I’ll call you.” And disappeared.
***** “You didn’t call me.” Jessica’s voice somehow managed to sound both sexy and whiny at once. That, Kevin thought, was his problem in a nutshell. What had seemed sexy and playful during the chase had gotten old in a hurry. Three months of dating and enough dinners, movies, and shopping to satisfy a dozen women had finally earned him a trip to her bed. If only he’d known the prize wasn’t worth the pursuit. The woman put enough time into maintaining a hot exterior, it was a shame there was no interior to match. What had seemed lighthearted and flirtatious had turned out to be a cover for not much at home. She was a beautifully wrapped empty package.
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“I’m sorry, babe. My cell phone battery died.” Kevin winced at the feebleness of his own excuse. But three hours of making do with an antiquated laptop, while fielding calls and making contingency plans for making up the lost work, had left him frazzled. He groaned inwardly as he thought of the faces of his team when he explained why his analysis was late. “Which did you want to do?” “Huh? Sorry, could you say that again?” Kevin realized he’d missed whatever it was Jessica had called to ask. Knowing her, it could be anything. At his admission that he hadn’t been paying attention, Jessica’s voice devolved into full-blown pout mode. “Kevin. If you don’t want to go, just say so.” Now he was screwed. He’d obviously missed some vital verbal clue, and he had his choice of admitting either that he’d tuned her out or that he’d forgotten the details of their last conversation. Lately, the flirtatious, sexy side had been making fewer and fewer appearances, replaced by the whiny, bitchy side, and either admission was likely to earn him an all-out tantrum. Weighing which of the two alternatives was the least unpleasant, Kevin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes, and Jessica’s voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard, getting on his last nerve. “Jess, listen. Here’s the deal --” The polite clearing of a throat made Kevin look up. Durrance stood in the doorway, Kevin’s PC cradled in his arms like a baby. Waving him in, Kevin again pushed his chair away from his desk. But instead of returning the tower to its original spot under the desk, Durrance set it down on the desktop and stood back to wait. “Jess? I’m not going to be able to make it.”
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Kevin ran his gaze over the PC, glancing up to find Durrance watching him, a sympathetic expression on his face. Kevin glanced at the phone and nodded, holding up a finger. Durrance nodded back, smiling, while folding his arms across his chest and settling in against the doorframe. Kevin smiled back and only then realized that Jessica was lighting into him. Words washed over him, leaving the impression of dissatisfaction, but fading into the background of a disembodied wah wah wah like the teacher’s voice in a Charlie Brown cartoon. “-- you are so selfish --” Durrance’s grin grew broader, and Kevin couldn’t resist holding the phone away from his ear and wincing in a pantomime of exaggerated distress. “I’m sorry, Jess, I’m going to have to call you back later. Someone just came in and --” Silence followed by a dial tone led him to the inescapable conclusion that she’d hung up on him. “Hooo-kay. Good night to you too, sweetheart.” Pushing away from his relaxed position against the doorframe, Durrance took a step across the tiny office and propped a hip against Kevin’s desk. “Did I come at a bad time?” “No. I --” Kevin stopped in the middle of his reflexive denial when he realized his only real feeling was relief. He’d been spared the full effect of a female outburst, and his uppermost response was gratitude. “No, really. That’s okay. Good news on the hardware front, I hope?” The jaunty grin on Durrance’s face faded. “I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
***** A cold gust of wind kicked up and Kevin hunched a little closer into his jacket. The night was clear and cold, and, although it was only a little after six o’clock, the short January
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days meant that it had been dark for a while. Kevin laughed at himself a little. Pulling up his coat collar over a cool night in California. He wasn’t bred for cold climates. Coworkers from out of state, places like Colorado and Illinois, loved to laugh at him for his thin blood. Hey, it wasn’t his fault if his people came from temperate climes. His parents were first-generation immigrants from Mexico, and his family tree was heavily populated with Indian. His native environment didn’t include cold -- and to Kevin, that meant anything below about sixty-five degrees. His errand out of the way, Kevin tucked the bag containing two new pairs of jeans under his arm and headed for the welcoming lights of his favorite watering hole. Although he might wish the restaurant’s management had put half the money and time they’d lavished on décor and menus into designing better seating, the food was good, the beer brewed on site, and no matter what the time of day, a sporting event would be on the big screen. As he approached, two men stood outside the front door, one peering closely at the menu posted there, the other looking around with the fidgety impatience of one whose mind is already made up. Maybe because he’d already seen it twice that day, Kevin recognized the profile even as the wheat-blond hair and spectacles registered with his subconscious mind.
Durrance. As Kevin approached, Durrance bent to hear whatever the other man was saying, and Kevin had a moment to wonder at the relationship. Durrance’s neck bent gracefully with an air of solicitousness. If the person whose mouth he was bending to hear hadn’t been a burly, if slightly shorter, male, Kevin might have thought -He cut the thought off in midsentence. Three more strides and he was at the door. As he reached for the brass doorknob, both men gave him a cursory look. When his eyes met Durrance’s, Kevin nodded and kept going. “Hey, Kevin, hold on.” Kevin stopped, one hand on the door handle, one foot inside the restaurant.
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“Oh, hey. How you doin’?” Durrance shot his companion an exasperated look. “Jamie, are you in or out? Can we go inside? I’m freezing my ass off while you make up your mind.”
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Chapter Two
This was a bad idea. Ben Durrance removed his glasses, carefully unhitching their wire rims one ear at a time, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The waiter was placing their drinks on the table, and, as Jamie cast longing eyes over the kid’s peach-fuzzed face and rosebud mouth, Ben had a moment to wonder what the hell had been going through his head when he’d invited his new coworker to join them. He might lie to virtually everyone else he met, but he never lied to himself. Or, at least, he tried not to. But when he’d stood shivering in the cold and his gaze had landed on the perfect features and exotic coloring of Kevin Beltrán, his subconscious had elbowed aside his good sense and called out to the man. An ex-lover and a, hopefully, future one at the same table. Without careful handling, this was a train wreck waiting to happen. Ben realized that, very shortly, his personal life was about to derail like an Amtrak engine under perfect conditions. Unable to hold the busy waiter’s attention, Jamie turned back to the table. Taking a long pull from the beer he’d ordered, he let his gaze alight first on Ben’s face before allowing
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it to drift over to Kevin’s. His twinkling eyes giving him the air of a mischievous child, Jamie addressed his question to the table. “So. How do you two know each other?” “Work.” “Work. How else?” Their answers overlapping, it was Kevin’s rejoinder that lingered in the air. “Oh, any number of places.” Jamie’s mild appearance hid the soul of a heretic and the mouth of a well-traveled sailor. Once he got rolling, virtually anything could come out -and Ben had the scars to remind him. “Astronomical society. Fencing class. One of his jazz band buddies. Although ...” Jamie began rubbing his chin. Always a bad sign. “... you don’t really look like the jazz type. Ben, you’re not still playing that Australian Rules football thing any more, are you?” “Nah. My insurance company threatened to drop me if I broke any more bones. Hell, I was on a first-name basis with two out of three shifts of emergency room staff.” Ben put his glasses back on and watched Kevin’s face come back into focus. He could see the speculation behind eyes the color of burnt chocolate. Muted and well-bred, but speculation nonetheless. “Aussie Rules, huh? How’d you get into that?” Kevin sampled his own beer, an unfiltered hefeweizen, and cleared the foam from his upper lip with a practiced swipe of his tongue. Ben didn’t think Kevin was deliberately yanking his chain. He didn’t strike him as a mean-spirited man. More like completely clueless. About a lot of things. If circumstances were different, Ben would have been happy to clean the foam off himself. With tortuously slow licks of his tongue. He’d never tried it, but he was willing to bet that the malty taste of beer with go just fine with the taste of clean human skin. Would beer foam stay on a cock long enough to lap it clean? “Uh, football.” Ben shook his head a little, as though by doing so he could shake the intriguing image from his head. “Natural contrariness, mostly. Saxophone-playing,
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astronomy-loving geeks get surprisingly little respect in rural Wisconsin. Regular football was too mundane. I had to pick the one with no pads and no time-outs.” “Dude, I’ve seen that on TV. It’s brutal. You get your ass kicked playing that.” Stomping down hard on the warm, rosy glow he got from the approval in Kevin’s eyes, Ben congratulated himself on managing an off-handed tone. “Huh. Tell me about it.” A muffled snort came from his left, and Ben looked over to catch a suspiciously bland look on Jamie’s face. Foot tapping in time to the bad ’80s music playing in the background, Kevin’s fingers drummed restlessly on the side of his glass. At least he didn’t play air guitar. Ben could bear anything but that. “Wisconsin? What’s in Wisconsin?” Like a shortstop holding the runner on base, Ben gave Jamie a brief but hard stare before responding. “Besides trees and cows? University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire. And family.” That was the trouble with old friends: they knew where the bodies were buried.
***** Christ, he was nervous. Ben hated making the first move. No. That wasn’t exactly true. It was the uncertainty he hated. Almost as much as the rejection. It was a totally different scenario than his preferred method of hooking up. Best was a party given by good friends. Individuals had already been vetted and the real dirtbags weeded out. It was easy enough, under cover of going to the kitchen for a snack, to get the straight info from the host. To exchange a few salient comments with a knowledgeable party. No doubt about it, private parties were the best.
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Almost as good was the queer-friendly social function. Ben never lived anywhere very long without finding the places where people like himself hung out. There was nothing like looking around the room and knowing that every man there shared something in common with him. There was a level of comfort, which was hard to convey to his straight friends, that came from the realization that he was surrounded by a crowd of people bent the same way he was. That’s what made what he was about to do so hard. He was about to jump out of a plane at thirty thousand feet with no parachute. He was about to ask another man, of whom he knew little, which way he swung. It was worse than stage fright, a tax audit, and final exams all rolled into one. His stomach was turning over -slowly knotting up as he thought about Kevin’s possible reactions. No one got to be a gay man of his age without experiencing rejection. It was normal. But there was something uniquely nerve-wracking about the homosexual version of the dating game. Ben had experienced everything from cold disgust to complete and utter astonishment. He’d had a swing taken at him more than once. So he leaned against the wall outside the restroom and waited for Kevin to come out.
Emerge, dammit. Easy enough to see which way his thoughts were running. The past hour had been one of the toughest to get through that he could recall in a long, long time. Tough. Ha. It had been sheer, fucking hell. He, Kevin, and Jamie had been engaging in a subtle dance. A mating ritual no less powerful for the civilized clothes it wore. The talk might have been of sports, work, and current events, but the underlying tension had grown ever so slowly stronger. Like a stick used as a lever to twist a rope, the pressure had increased gradually. It could turn out that he was horribly wrong in his guess -- but Ben didn’t think so. He’d watched the body language.
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So now he pushed himself slowly away from the wall, shoved his hands into his pockets, and paced. Every time his mind tried to wander down the road of Kevin unzipping his pants, reaching through the vent in his boxers, and pulling himself out to hold himself with one hand, Ben yanked it back to the present. All the while, the conversation he’d had with Jamie when Kevin had first left the table bounced uncomfortably around in his head. “Check you out.” Jamie’s eyes had still glittered, but now it was with something else. Something as far from good humor as Ben’s rural roots were from the upscale restaurant they sat in. “Check what out?” “How the mighty have fallen.” Jamie fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers, circling first one and then the other, then reversing the motion. He finally stopped and met Ben’s gaze, startling him with the pain he read there. What would Jamie have to be hurt about? The two of them were ancient history. It had been years since they’d been anything other than old friends. “What are you talking about, Jamie?” “You. And Mr. Hot Young Latino over there.” The edge in the other man’s voice shocked the shit out of him. It was true that their physical relationship had ended at Ben’s insistence. But that was ages ago. Where the hell was this coming from? “Jamie, I --” He’d had no idea what to say. He couldn’t have been more shocked if Jamie had come out and said he was going straight and had a date next week with one of the Olsen twins. Ben had searched for the right words, but he’d had no idea what the right words were. “Oh, forget it, Ben. You always were so full of yourself you couldn’t see what was right in front of you.” Jamie stood up so abruptly, the chair he’d been sitting in tipped over
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backward, drawing looks from the people seated at the surrounding tables. “It would serve you right if I sat here all night and made life difficult for you and the twink. But I won’t.” Like he had a hundred other times, Jamie picked up the bill their waiter had left facedown on the table. “You know what? Why don’t you pay your own bill for once? I hope he breaks your fucking heart.” And he had walked out. “Hey. Sorry that took so long.” Looking up from his rapt study of the restaurant floor, his eyes taking a moment to focus, Ben’s thoughts were still on Jamie. With his perfect hair, perfect clothes -- even his voice was perfectly modulated -- Kevin looked like one of those high-gloss Calvin Klein ads come to life. He practically oozed masculine energy. Ben would have given anything to be able to slide his hand behind Kevin’s neck, sift his hand through the dark waves of his hair, and lay his mouth on Kevin’s. He knew just how Kevin would taste, how his cool lips and teeth would feel under Ben’s. God, he wanted it. But he couldn’t. Not yet. “No problem. Let’s go.”
***** This probably won’t work out. This will most likely turn out to be absolutely nothing. Ben tried to be his own voice of reason as he turned his car into the parking lot of the electronics superstore and watched for the corresponding set of headlights in his rearview mirror. Looking for a parking spot, he chose one a little further away from the entrance than he might have gotten, but one that left room next to it for Kevin’s truck. He took a moment
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to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, closing his eyes and massaging his head with the knuckles of both hands as they clutched the wheel. He had to get a grip on himself. This could be horrible. All he needed was to climb out of his car, have Kevin get one look at his raging hard-on, and bail. It was a bad sign that already he cared what the other man thought. He didn’t want to think about the look of disgust in Kevin’s eyes. But the more he tried not to, the easier it was to picture the clean, spare line of Kevin’s upper lip curling in disdain. What would be his epithet of choice? “Hell no, you freak.” Or maybe, “Get away from me, you sick fuck.” What the hell was he even doing here? The lights of Kevin’s truck swung in an arc, momentarily illuminating the car’s interior. He tried thinking about diving naked off the Huntington Beach pier into the cold winter water in an attempt to bring his body back under control. His libido was wasn’t having any. In a chain reaction, thoughts of the water led to thoughts of the beach. Of strolling down Second Street in Belmont Shore, introducing Kevin to one of his favorite spots on Earth. As long as he was fantasizing, why not go for the gusto and have them holding hands? Because, just as quickly, that thought led to yet another. He pictured the numerous narrow alleys between buildings, knew that he’d be unable to resist for long pulling Kevin into one, backing him up against the nearest building, and kissing him hard. The image of a ravenous kiss as they ground their lower bodies together was interrupted by a knock on his car window. “You coming?” As they entered the store, Ben began grilling Kevin more on what he wanted in a computer, the theoretical reason for the trip. Talk at the restaurant had touched on computers, and Kevin’s almost total lack of knowledge on the subject had drawn out Ben’s protective instincts. The poor schmuck would get cornered by some salesman working
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straight commission and end up with half the machine he needed at twice the price. His motives were strictly altruistic in helping the guy out. Plus, he’d get to stand next to Kevin and smell his aftershave. “So, basically, you’re doing what with it? Email? Internet?” It was surprising to look up into Kevin’s eyes and realize he was only an inch or two taller than Ben. Something about the way he carried himself made him look taller. “Yeah. You know, sports, news, car stuff.” “Right. Sports and porn. Got it.” Ben could tell the exact instant his deliberately provocative comment sank in. Kevin’s slow perusal of the display of jump-drives in front of them stopped, the hands stuffed into his pants pockets thrust a little deeper, and his arms stiffened. So divine were the widened eyes of such a rich shade of brown, Ben couldn’t resist prodding to see what else he could bring to the surface. “Yeah, yeah. And you got all those spyware cookies from doing crossword puzzles with your granny. Yeah, me, too.” Turning back to the display, Kevin’s reply was lost in the blaring announcement of the day’s special over the P.A. “Hey, don’t sweat it, K.B. Everybody does it. You’ve just got to learn how to protect yourself. Come on. Let’s go look at memory and processors. I think we can probably salvage your old one and get away with upgrading it.” As Ben led the way, he thought he could see Kevin relaxing a little. By the time they’d established how much Kevin had to spend and how best to apply it, the mood had mellowed back to nearly beer-assisted status. By the time they reached their vehicles, Kevin’s natural swagger was back. “So when will you be able to come over and put this thing together for me? Hey, don’t give me that look. You got me into this; you’re putting this sucker together. I’m okay at taking things
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apart, but, uh, let’s just say they don’t always return to their original form and function after reassembly.” A set of beautifully white teeth shone through the darkness of the store parking lot. Kevin’s mocha-colored skin looked even darker than usual in the absence of strong lighting and formed the perfect contrast to a set of perfectly white teeth. Not fake perfect, as though they owed their perfection to a good dental surgeon’s work, though. The two in the middle front had overlapped a tiny bit, making the whole face somehow more approachable. Kevin glanced at the bag of computer parts he had stashed on the passenger side of his truck. “Are you always this much of a pain in the ass? All right. I’m usually busy Tuesday and Thursday nights, but other than that I’m free. Let me know what’s a good night for you, and we can do it some night after work,” Ben said. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. What’s that, school?” The night had started out cold, and the wind had picked up, dropping the temperature even more. Attempts to prolong the conversation much were doomed to failure. “No, uh, I play in a little jazz band. Just small time. We play local gigs when we can. Heard of the Blue Note in Newport Beach? Anyway, we get together to practice -- usually once or twice a week.” “Oh. Cool.” Was he imagining it, or was that the third time Kevin’s eyes had strayed down to the area below Ben’s belt? As though in response, his cock began to swell again. All Kevin had to do was reach out a hand to run one well-manicured nail down the placket of Ben’s pants. “So what are you thinking?” “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just, you know, the computer ... and ... stuff.” Kevin’s voice had dipped to a wonderfully husky whisper. Ben could imagine waking up to that voice. It would ask him to spread his legs and close his eyes. He would definitely do the first, but not the
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second. He wouldn’t want to miss a second of the sight of that well-shaped mouth taking him in. Sliding up and down his rigid length. One hand gripping him gently but firmly, while the other slipped underneath to finger his back hole. “Would you like to touch it?”
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Chapter Three
“Have some more, m’ijo. You’re too skinny. You’re not eating right; I can tell.” Kevin’s mother piled more cheese enchiladas on his plate without waiting for a response. It was a weekly ritual. Kevin and his sister Lucy arrived Saturday morning and helped their parents with chores. In Lucy’s case, the day nearly always included cleaning and cooking, possibly shopping, while their mother tsked over Lucy’s status as a single woman at the advanced age of twenty-five. In Kevin’s case, he would help their father with traditionally male tasks and could usually be found performing handyman jobs or mowing the lawn. Being the two youngest siblings, separated from their elder brother and sister by nearly six years, Kevin and Lucy had developed their own shorthand vocabulary, punctuated with appropriate eye contact and body language. Kevin looked up to see the small smile on Lucy’s face as their mother piled more rice with garbanzo beans on his plate and set a bowl of
albóndigas soup next to it. “Here, m’ijo.” His mother’s fingers, gnarled from the effects of arthritis made worse by years of cleaning other people’s homes, twisted the guilt knife inside Kevin as she passed the insulated container that held another half-dozen hot corn tortillas. She had worked for as
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long as Kevin could remember, only retiring when she could no longer physically handle the job. Neither his father nor mother had gone beyond grade school, both working multiple jobs in order to put their four children through school. Kevin couldn’t imagine a day when he wouldn’t feel a deep and abiding sense of gratitude to his parents. It seemed like a small thing to help them out with regular visits and any chores he could perform.
“Grácias, mamá. Está bien.” He loved his parents deeply at the very same moment they were driving him totally nuts. It didn’t help that Kevin understood the mentality that produced his mother’s supremely self-sacrificing style of parenting. She would rather die than take the last serving of any meal. “No, no. You take it. I can make more.” He knew that she loved her children with the last fiber of her being, even as she was backhanding his sister for speaking disrespectfully to her. And the grandchildren. More specifically, the grandchildren she didn’t have and wanted desperately. Their older brother Joe was married, but he and his huera wife were too busy building careers and paying an outrageously expensive mortgage in the Bay area to even think about having children. His older sister Lana was married. In her case, she and his pig of a brother-in-law were trying to have kids that no one in the family wanted to see. Her husband Javier was an abusive lout, only tolerated by the family for his sister’s sake. No one had seen bruises on Lana since Joe had taken his brother-in-law aside at one memorable family gathering and quietly threatened to kill him if he saw anything similar on his sister again. The family suspected that Javier had only grown circumspect; no one believed he’d changed his stripes for good. And no one wanted to see children brought into that picture.
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Younger sister Lucy was having too much fun playing the field. She had a different boyfriend every month and had absolutely no intention of following her mother’s footsteps in the areas of early marriage and family. While his mother went back and forth from table to kitchen and back again, Lucy spoke quietly under her breath in English. “So what happened to what’s-her-name? Jessica. I thought you promised to bring her over so Mom and Dad could meet her.” Kevin glanced up to see if their mother had picked up the name. He and Lucy often spoke English as a way of keeping things from their parents. Although they both spoke some of their adopted country’s language, neither parent had become as fluent as the children they’d raised there. “Ah, don’t know.” He took another bite of the cheese enchiladas his mother always made if she knew he was coming, and shoved aside the memory of Ben’s face that sprang to mind. Since the night before in the electronics store parking lot, that had been happening to him a lot. Maybe even before that. He wasn’t sure what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted by the store’s security guard asking if they had car trouble. “It’s not working out all that well.” [RM1]“What’s the matter? Barbie wouldn’t put out and you’re moving on?”
“Would you like to touch it?” God, yes. “Har-di-har-har, you’re very funny. And you’d better watch your mouth. You let Mom hear you talking like that, and she’ll have you on a bus to Zacatecas, with a fiancée waiting at the other end, before you can say, ‘I like oral sex.’” “Oh, listen to you lecture me, Mr. Bang-’em-and-leave-’em.” “Keep your voice down, Luz; here comes Mom. Besides, it’s different for me -- I’m a guy.” He used the Spanish version of her name for emphasis and punctuated the remark with a smile he knew would drive her blood pressure twenty points higher.
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Right on cue, Lucy opened her mouth to let him have it, her favored riposte being a reference to his forbearers’ activities with animals, which would have horrified their mother. But since it was invariably delivered in Spanish, and the woman whose ancestry she was impugning was presently placing a plate of empanadas on the table, his sister could only fume in silence. “Come on, Lucy. I’m not looking to get serious any more than you are. I’m just having fun, and it didn’t work out with Jessica. No harm, no foul.”
***** “Okay, this --” Both hands occupied, Ben gestured with his nose. “-- is the indicator light. We’re going to pull it out -- gently -- and unscrew the casing.” Kevin could do a lot with an assembled computer. He was good with numbers, knew how to build a kick-ass database and query just about anything. But don’t ask him to work on it. He could drive the car. But he was the farthest thing there was from a mechanic. The sight of Ben ripping into his trusty old computer, blithely disassembling it as though he didn’t have a care in the world, had knocked him off his normal, stable self. That must be it. How else could he account for hearing innuendo and double-entendres when all Ben was doing was working on a computer? He was disconnecting cables faster than Kevin could mark them. He hoped like hell Ben knew his stuff. Kevin realized what a lousy job he was doing of appearing unconcerned when Ben looked up from his task and immediately halted in mid-disconnect. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it handled. It’s going to be all right.” Handled. What a wealth of meaning could be read into that word. Kevin took a deep breath to steady himself as a wave of excitement rolled over him. He pictured those same hands that were so capably maneuvering around inside the guts of his
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machine working his pants zipper with the same deft skill. Don’t worry. I’ve got it handled.
It’s going to be all right. And then Ben would take his cock in both hands. “Kev, it’s no big deal. I’ve done this, oh, roughly, about a million times. I could do this blindfolded, in my sleep, with a hangover. Trust me. Do you trust me?” “Yeah, yeah. Absolutely. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Ben was already back at work now, and Kevin let his gaze drift up from the open machine to the top of Ben’s head. His original hair color must be close to Kevin’s own, but the bleach job had lightened it to a pale straw color. It looked like it might have had some gel added to it, because it stood up in random spikes pointing in all directions. “Okay. I don’t get the impression you’re going to be trying this on your own any time real soon, so I’m just going to go ahead and do it. See these screws? Those are what’s holding it in place. ’Kay. They’re out. I’m going to squeeze the mounting brackets ... like ... this. And it’s out. Voila.” He held out a smallish, square device for Kevin to take, a wasn’t-that-easy smile on his face. Reaching a hand to take it, surprise colored Kevin’s voice. “I thought it would be bigger.” He took the drive in his hand and felt a tingle of electricity as his fingers brushed over Ben’s palm. “You’re not supposed to say so, even if that is what you’re thinking.” Kevin froze. The room was quiet. The moment stretched out. Not even the ticking of a clock broke up the silence as they stared at each other. The bubble of tension finally burst inside Kevin and he laughed out loud. “Good one.” What a little pussy. Disgusted with himself, Kevin didn’t know where to look. It was like walking a tightrope. He had the feeling -- and it was strong -- that Ben might be like him. That he
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might be curious, too. He wanted to say something. Teetering on the edge, he wanted to ask Ben ... What?
Ever get hard thinking about stroking another guy? Ever wanted to suck a cock? God, what if he was wrong? He had to work with Ben. Not every day, sure. But talk about awkward. Jesus, this was weird. “Then you just reverse the process.” Maybe it was all in Kevin’s head, because Ben seemed oblivious. “Slip in the new one. Screw it down.” Kevin let the sound of Ben’s voice wash over him as his thoughts turned inward and he listened to his body. He was rock hard. His balls were tight, and his stomach was knotted in fear.
What if he was wrong? How could Ben be so calm? The computer tower now reassembled and looking like its old self, Ben began plugging in the cables connecting the monitor and all the rest of the peripherals they had pulled off in order to perform surgery. “There you go. New hard-drive. Good to go.” “Cool. Thanks. I owe you one.” “No you don’t. Happy to help.” Gathering his tools, Ben didn’t look up, sounding ever so casual. “You could do something for me if you’re feeling grateful.” It took every ounce of self-control Kevin owned not to look down or adjust himself in any way. If he didn’t draw attention to himself, maybe he could get out of this without looking like a total buffoon. “Sure. Anything.”
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Swiveling in his chair, Ben turned back from the machine, a friendly smile on his face. “I have a question for you.” His gaze gradually lowered until Kevin felt it, warm as a touch, on his crotch. Like a squirming puppy anticipating a pat, his dick twitched. “Tell me about
that.”
***** Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Kevin wanted to bang his head against the wall. He wanted the ground to open up. He wanted to be invisible. But he wasn’t. There he was, big as life, standing in front of a male coworker, sporting a hard-on there was no disguising. “Uh, yeah I ...” Words failed him. He had no idea what to say. Not true. He knew what he wanted to say. I want you to give me a blowjob. I want to stroke your cock. Maybe suck on it.
Definitely suck on it. He couldn’t say that. Unable to look Ben in the eye, he looked around. Down. Saw the wet spot on the placket of his khakis. Closed his eyes in doomed despair.
Oh, fuck. “I could be way off base here, Kev, but I’m gonna take a chance.” Ben’s voice sounded different. Funny. Not the usual smooth-as-silk baritone. “Kevin, I want to unzip your pants and touch you. Would that be all right? Would you like that, too?” Eyes shot open. He tried to speak. Couldn’t get past the boulder in his throat. Gave a jerky nod. Slowly. Slow as any dream, Ben didn’t get up, just rolled the chair he sat in forward until he could reach Kevin. The clean scent of soap -- shampoo maybe -- wafted up, and
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Kevin briefly registered the pleasant association. Then cool fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants and a thumb expertly flicked open the button. The soft metallic whisper of a zipper being undone, then the pressure of snug pants was gone. A second hand joined the first in the band of his pants, between his briefs and his bare skin; in concert, they worked the garments lower. Barely low enough to leave his butt naked to the cool morning air, the pants sagged open and his cock sprang free. Kevin gritted his teeth until he thought they might crack. One firm hand wrapped around his cock. Another quickly followed. Strong fingers caressed, squeezed, and that was all it took. A tortured groan fought its way up past the lump in his throat as he came in a gush of hot, sticky cum. As he began to spurt, some of the fingers containing him gave way to a warm, wet mouth. For what seemed like minutes, hours, he came and came, while that wonderful mouth sucked him dry. Firm lips cradled him as a tongue, comforting and warm, lapped and suckled. Kevin pried his eyes open enough to catch sight of Ben’s blond head bent over him, lips and hands working him, and he began to come all over again, even as he’d thought he couldn’t contain another drop. His legs weak, Kevin reached for support. Staggering a little, he took an awkward sideways step and leaned one arm on the desk. Somehow, Ben moved with him, never releasing Kevin’s spent cock. Nearly boneless, Kevin began to come back to himself -become aware of his surroundings. The morning was still quiet, although now the universally recognizable blend of announcer and crowd noises that was a televised football game drifted in from a neighboring apartment. But Ben continued to work magic with his mouth, reverently worshiping Kevin’s cock with lips and tongue until Kevin wanted it never to stop. Never go away.
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Too soon, Ben pulled back. He sat back in the armless black chair, smiling an inscrutable smile. Kevin met his gaze, and the two men stared at each other wordlessly. Until Ben slowly licked his lips from corner to corner. “Nice, bro. First time?” Kevin blurted out the first thing that came into his head. “No! Um, yeah. I mean -- well ...” Fuck, he was rattled. Talk about awkward. Kevin wanted to melt into the floor of his little home office, lay there, and just think. Contemplate. Glow. “’S’okay. I know how you feel.” Sitting back, hands tucked comfortably under his armpits, Ben looked no different than he did on any given day at work. They might be talking about utilization numbers, as calm as he looked. Like he did this sort of thing every day. “You do, huh?” “Sure. Everybody has a first time.” Ben’s smile grew warmer. “I’m just glad I could be yours.” “Yeah?” Kevin was absurdly pleased at the words. Standing in his windowless office, pants around his knees, his underwear bunched up under his spent cock, he should have felt ridiculous. But he didn’t. He felt great. Relaxed. Satisfied. “Cool.” He reached instinctively for his pants and began to work them back up. “Go ahead, if you feel like it. But ... you might not want to do that just yet. I mean, you don’t have to on my account.” “What, uh ... what are you thinking?” He shifted on his feet, suddenly unsure again. God, he just needed some time alone to think. “Tell me if I’m off base, but if we’re feeling experimental here --” Like a gunslinger reaching warily for his piece, Ben pulled his hands from their tucked positions and slowly reached for his own pants.
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Kevin felt like the biggest idiot in the world not to have thought of it on his own. What kind of a jerk did he look like? What were the rules here? He was a stranger in a strange land, and he didn’t speak the language. But he knew what he wanted. “Let me.” Sitting in the chair, Ben was beyond his reach. He’d have to kneel. Kevin went down on his knees, but looked to Ben for reassurance. “Is that all right?” “Are you kidding?” Ben moved his hands away, lacing his fingers together and placing his hands on top of his head. Smiling to cover the shaking of his hands, Kevin began unbuttoning Ben’s jeans. The classic button type, the material was soft beneath his fingers. The body beneath, though, wasn’t. As he fumbled out of sheer nervousness, Kevin slowly became aware of not just what was behind the old jeans, but what wasn’t. Namely, underwear of any kind. He popped the second-to-last button free and spread the cloth open, revealing a hard, curving cock with a flat mushroom head. Face to face with the first adult cock besides his own he’d seen since high school, Kevin avidly noted the differences. Seven or so inches, a little fatter than his own. Cut. Beautiful. He reached out the fingers of one hand and gingerly touched it. Petted it. Mesmerized, Kevin watched as it quivered, as though delighted to be stroked. He ran his fingers gingerly up its length to the tip, enjoying the velvety feel of it, so like his own. But different, because he was giving, not receiving. A single pearlescent drop seeped from the tip. Without thinking, Kevin tilted his head to taste it, and the top of his head nearly blew off from trying to contain the thousand sensations that bombarded him. The salty taste of Ben’s semen. The soft texture of his cockhead against Kevin’s lips and tongue. The musky scent of him, warm and welcoming, as Kevin’s head edged closer and closer to Ben’s lightly furred crotch. Still flirting with just the head, his fingers were quickly gaining confidence. Ben’s strained voice urged him on.
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”Come on, suck it. You know you’re dying to.”
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Chapter Four
Come on. Take it. Take me. Ben’s heart jumped to his throat at the look Kevin flashed him, all big brown eyes and dark lashes. God, could the kid be any more of a heartbreaker? Not even if he tried. And he was trying. Trying to take his first cock in his mouth. Jesus, he was so fucking hot. “Yeah, baby. That’s it.” Ben watched his cock, so different from the mocha-colored beauty he’d just been holding in his hands, disappearing. Not exactly like snowflakes, but there was a huge range of differences, no doubt. He’d even known one trophy collector who liked to photograph his conquests. Not realizing yet it wasn’t quite the loving commemoration it seemed, Ben remembered being stroked and caressed to full attention so that he could lean back proudly to display himself. Oh, fuck, that was good. Gaining confidence by the second, Kevin took more into his mouth, holding on with one hand, eyelashes fanned out on his high, perfect cheekbones. He might not be the last word in technique, but there was something undeniably erotic about that untutored mouth struggling awkwardly to take his cock. And to see those sculpted
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cheeks hollowed out with effort ... well, Ben couldn’t remember when he’d seen a more fetching sight. Ben was of the opinion that, while there was no such thing as a bad blowjob, there was a degree of enjoyment to be found in an artfully executed one. And this was about as far from artful as it got. But he wouldn’t trade this one for any of the artful ones, not for any amount of money. Kevin was finding his rhythm, dipping his head, pulling away slowly as he sucked. Pulled and sucked, eyes closed in concentration. Ben could almost see the wheels spinning in the kid’s head. Kid, heck. Why did he think that? The fact was, he didn’t know. For all he knew, Kevin might even be older, chronologically. But experience-wise, yeah, he was a kid. Somewhere along the way, Kevin had discovered his tongue. Began using it to flick against the underside of Ben’s cock. Pulled off and began circling the head, using it to trace the long vein that ran underneath. Kevin had to know what teasing like that would do to Ben. When he began nibbling, in tiny little bites, around the head, Ben groaned and thrust against the source of his torment. His hips arched, seeking release, but he chased a moving target. Every time he thrust forward, Kevin retreated. Finally, finally, Kevin took him fully into his mouth again, sucking hard. The teasing had done its work, though, and Ben was helpless in the grip of pleasure -- an intensity he couldn’t recall ever feeling before. A hand crept between his legs and gently cradled his balls, a thumb rubbing ever so gently back and forth, and Ben felt the characteristic tightening. “Kevin. Kev, I’m close. If you don’t want --” The grip on Ben’s cock tightened at the same time the suction increased. Knowing the probable result, Ben opened his eyes. The single instant it took him to absorb the total picture was all he needed. The head of shiny, dark hair; elegant cheekbones sweeping down to a set of beautifully carved lips stretched wide as they labored over his cock. When Kevin
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glanced up anxiously, their gazes caught and held for one timeless instant -- and Ben was lost. He closed his eyes against the fierce pleasure as he came. The tiny tugs as Kevin struggled to swallow against an unfamiliar sensation touched Ben. He brought one hand down from atop his head and buried it in the silky mop of Kevin’s hair, stroking gently. Over and over, he ran his fingers through and thought what a profoundly happy man he was.
***** “It’s probably too early in the day for a beer for you, huh?” Kevin glanced at his watch while he took a surreptitious swipe at his chin with a thumb and forefinger. A small dribble of cum clung to one corner of Kevin’s gorgeous mouth, and Ben would have given a lot to be able to clean it lovingly away with his tongue. But he knew it was too early for that. God, but he’d never have the chance to do it again when it was overspill from Kevin’s first time swallowing another man’s load. The sweet lassitude of a moment ago was gone as Ben’s gut twisted and something located higher -- something suspiciously higher up in his chest -- turned over. That he not only wanted to, but that it actually hurt not to be able to, was a bad sign. “A beer? It’s only eleven.” Kevin looked back at his watch, as though this time it might tell something different. “I guess, I ...” “Nah, forget about it. Kidding.” If things had only been different. If Kevin only had a little more experience under his belt, Ben would insist on that beer. Then he’d haul them both off to bed for a nap, to be followed by a lazy afternoon in bed. Sheesh. He was finally losing it if a little blow-and-go was doing this to his head. Ben needed to get the heck out of Dodge if he was getting misty over some doe-eyed bi-curious neophyte. Ben had been down this road before. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt,
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hat, and the commemorative three-DVD set. Time to gather up his puny excuse for a dignity and get out before he did something really stupid. Like kiss that gorgeous, cock-sucking mouth. “So you’re all set with the new hard-drive. Let me know if you have any problems, okay?” At Ben’s suggestion of a beer, Kevin had crossed the tiny dining area that separated his office from the kitchen and was rummaging through the kitchen’s contents. Christ, if the place were any smaller, he’d wonder if Kevin had hijacked it from Malibu Ken. The whole space couldn’t be more than five-hundred square feet, every inch of it spotlessly clean. It was even color-coordinated. “Sorry. No beer. How about a Smirnoff Ice?” Those eyes were a lethal weapon. And that ass ... Forget about it. That wasn’t happening. “I think I’ve got some kahlua up in the cabinet. Hold on. Lemme check.” “Forget it, Kev. That’s okay. I was kidding. Besides, I’ve got to take off.” “Really? Oh. I thought we could --” Ben cocked an eyebrow and waited. He couldn’t wait to hear this. Poor Kevin obviously didn’t have a clue which way was up. But, God love him, he was still in there pitching. “-- I don’t know. Shoot some hoops?” “Sounds like a blast. But I’m meeting some friends. Holy shit, is it that late? Gotta go. See you tomorrow.” He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Ben grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and made his escape.
Jesus, what a jerk. His inner critic, never very far away, made an appearance. You handled that well. Ran out of there so fast you probably left skid marks. Yeah, he should be inviting you back for an encore ... probably sometime ... how about never? Is never good for you?
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Navigating the maze of pathways leading back to the visitors’ parking, Ben tried to outpace the running monologue of criticism picking up speed in his head.
What’d you expect, you pervert? It’s not natural. You know what the Good Book says about that. I don’t believe in gays or lesbians or any of them queers. No son of mine is an unnatural man-lover. I don’t have a son. Mom. And how are you doing this fine Sunday morning?
***** Ben spent the rest of his Sunday attempting to master a particularly difficult Ornette Coleman piece. The combination of mental acuity and instinct it took to play it seemed the perfect thing to take his mind off the supremely stupid thing he’d just done. Why had he gone to Kevin’s place at all? He’d known he was attracted to the man. What the hell had he thought would happen? Ben knew he had no real self-control to speak of. The old saying “I can resist anything but temptation” should be tattooed on his forehead. Maybe it was, for all he knew. In some invisible writing that was nonetheless instantly recognizable to a certain kind of individual. In just under two hours, he’d, in all likelihood, managed to torpedo his shiny, brandnew job. Christ. Kevin didn’t seem like the type to call the cops. But if he should happen to mention what had happened when he invited a coworker over to his apartment to anyone at EcoDyne, it would mean the beginning of the end. He’d signed a paper acknowledging that he’d read the company’s sexual harassment policy. Ben couldn’t recall the rules and regulations in any great detail, but he was pretty sure that stuffing his dick down a coworker’s throat would not be listed among the company’s best practices matrix. Oh, he was so fucked.
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As he fished through the empty Dell box that served as a laundry basket, selecting anything white and throwing it into the washing machine, he shook his head and mentally smacked himself a couple of times. He knew better than to talk about his personal life at work. Just like he knew that the smart action would have been to give Kevin a list of parts to buy, along with the name and address of a good PC repair man. But the minute he’d seen Kevin show up alone at his favorite hangout, he’d had the feeling that life was trying to tell him something. There he’d been, about to sit down for a drink and conversation with an old friend, his evening planned out. Nothing exciting. Just a good meal in pleasant surroundings. A chance to turn in a little early. And then Kevin walked in. He’d taken one look at that shiny dark hair tumbling casually over a wide forehead, half his face obscured by a turned-up collar, a tight, perfect ass showcased to perfection by tailored navy pants, and reacted. Ben hadn’t known he was going to call to Kevin until the words were out of his mouth. He’d been world-class stupid from the get-go. Don’t tempt yourself with what you can’t have and, above all, never -- ever -- date a coworker.
It wasn’t really a date, though, was it? More of a “Thanks for fixing my PC” blowjob. Nothing personal about it. He told his evil subconscious to shut up, stuffed more clothes in the machine, and added soap. Closing the lid as the sounds of water filling up the washer began to fill the room, Ben walked over to where his beat-up old Selmer sat in its stand. He picked it up, snapped it onto the lanyard around his neck, and ran his fingers familiarly up and down the keys. Why couldn’t people be as reliable as his sax?
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It never asked anything of him. Never borrowed money or the car keys. Never took off for days at a time, leaving him to worry and wonder what he’d said this time to set it off. Never came home drunk or high, begging for comfort. Never brought home other people to play it. He still got a twist in his gut when he thought of the charming, always smiling Tom. Was it only two years ago Thanksgiving that he’d finally said goodbye for the last time? Some days it felt like a million. Others, more like yesterday. Ben stuck the sax’s mouthpiece in his mouth, rewet the reed, and began playing the opening riff to an old Smokey Robinson ballad by ear. It wasn’t art. Hell, it wasn’t even jazz. But it caught his mood perfectly. Sometimes he still missed the man. And why not? He’d thought he’d found his other half. Ben had never met anyone who got him the way Tommy had. The first time Tom had said, “Yeah, but he’s not one of us,” Ben had known exactly what he was talking about. It had nothing to do with being gay and everything to do with being young, smart, funny, charming. Only Ben wasn’t the charming one. Oh, he was smart enough. He’d been drawn to Tom’s scathing sense of humor that took no prisoners and was all too frequently too hip for the room. They’d met at Ben’s first job when he’d come to California, and more than once Ben was the only one laughing at the other man’s brutally sharp wit. But charm wasn’t one of Ben’s skills, and he’d always felt amazed and incredibly lucky that someone like Tom had even been interested in a geek like him in the first place. He’d always been a little in awe of the man. Smokey gave way to a Johnny Hodges ballad. Ben couldn’t match the signature tone of the legendary Hodges, but the melody felt right in a way nothing modern did. An alto sax never got truly low, but the notes in the low register gave voice to the sadness that always seemed to follow on the heels of recollection.
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He had loved Tommy. Maybe more than he’d ever loved anyone else in his sad, sorry life. It had felt like opening his chest and ripping his own heart out when he’d told Tommy goodbye. But he couldn’t live like that. He just couldn’t. Shoving aside the feelings, Ben concentrated on the music.
***** “Hey, Durrance. Wait up.” The automatic doors behind Ben swished shut and approaching footsteps behind him made him pause. It had been a hellacious day, filled with endless meetings, and his messenger’s bag hung heavy off his shoulder, filled to bursting with paperwork and reports. Part of the draw of the EcoDyne job was a chance to be part of the management team, midlevel to be sure, but still ... Ben was realizing that he had seriously underestimated the amount of paperwork the job involved and had succumbed to the urge to take some home, just to get it off his desk. And now, just when he didn’t need it, a major distraction had placed itself solidly in his path. He paused to wait the few seconds it took for Kevin to catch up. “Hey, Ben. How’s it going?” Kevin’s smile nearly knocked him on his ass. The man really was indecently goodlooking. He had an old-fashioned East Coast look about him -- Abercrombie & Fitch meets
GQ. Just looking at him, close enough to smell the last faint remnants of Kevin’s aftershave mixed with the sweat of a full workday, lightened Ben’s mood. “Hey, Kevin. It’s going. How about you?” Maybe it was Kevin’s job as a business analyst, or maybe just his basic personality, but Ben realized he’d never seen him looking stressed. He wondered what a bad day in Kevin’s world looked like. “Not too bad. Things are pretty quiet out my way right now.”
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Ben resumed walking toward the parking lot and Kevin fell in along side. “So you haven’t been caught up in the Globe Star fallout?” “Nah, I try to keep under the radar. It’ll probably take a while to work its way down to my level.” “You’re lucky, because I’m buried in it.” Ben looked reflexively down at the pouch he carried over one shoulder. “Ooh, dude, sorry. Seriously? You’re taking work home?” How did Kevin manage to look so carefree? He had to have things that kept him awake at night. Worries. Secrets. No one could be as light-hearted as Kevin seemed to be. “Yeah, I am. I live with the dream of seeing the top of my desk again.” “Oh.” They had reached his car. Ben opened the driver’s door and tossed his bag on the passenger seat before turning back to Kevin, who stood by chewing his lip and absently playing with the change in his pocket. “Do you want to ... I was thinking ...” Ben folded his arms across his chest and waited, a sinking feeling in his chest. Poor, inexperienced Kevin. What was his hang-up? Was it deciding what he wanted? Or admitting it?
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Chapter Five
Man. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. The angle of light from the parking lot’s lighting system turned Ben’s glasses into mirrors. Kevin could see himself reflected back in them, and even in that imperfect reflection, he looked nervous. What if Ben got the wrong idea? What if he thought this was some kind of a gay thing? His mind immediately rejected the thought. This wasn’t about being gay. It was ... more of a ... a curiosity. Yeah, that felt right. He had a strong curious side to him. And how cool was it that his first shot at exploring a little bit had directed him to Ben? Ben seemed totally cool. He wasn’t some hardcore, experienced guy. He’d probably done it once or twice before, though, because it seemed like he knew what he was doing. Jesus God, did he ever. He’d given Kevin the blowjob of his life. Like every last ounce of cum was being sucked out of him. And Ben had been into it, too, no question. Not like most girls. They always acted like they were doing him such a huge freaking favor. Kevin had never met a girl who seemed like
she really got off on it. It was almost an insult. Like they were so above touching his dick
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that it was something special and they deserved a reward. Just once, he’d like to think that she was doing it because she really wanted to. Even the ones who seemed like it was maybe almost semi-enjoyable hadn’t gotten him off like Ben had. Jesus, there was just something so unbelievably hot about how he’d done it. And touching Ben ... handling a dick he wasn’t attached to. God, it was so amazing to touch it. Feel it. Feel the different textures. Handle it and watch Ben react. Just standing here, thinking about it, was making him hard. Kevin wanted that again. “Yeah. I was hoping you had time to, you know, hang out for a while. I thought maybe we could go to my place again. Or --” Kevin looked around. He’d waited for Ben to leave, and it had been late enough that most of the employees were already gone. A few stragglers here and there. But they were mostly alone. “I don’t know. What do you think?” Ben looked impatient. He wasn’t interested. Shit. Maybe it hadn’t been as big a deal to him as it had to Kevin. Ben had rocked his world in a way Kevin wanted it rocked again. But if Ben wasn’t into it, he’d better cut his losses. “That’s okay; you’re busy. I was thinking ... Never mind. Some other time, maybe.” Kevin turned away. “Kevin.” “Yeah?” He turned back. Ben’s arms weren’t folded across his chest any more. His hands were in his own pockets now and it looked as though maybe he -“Kevin. What do you want? Really.” What did he want? Ben was a smart guy. EcoDyne didn’t hire dummies, certainly not to head up their implementation team for IT He had to know what was going through Kevin’s mind. Kevin surprised even himself with the annoyed tone in his voice.
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“What do I want? I want to know why you’re being such a hard-ass. What’s the big deal? Do you want to go hang out or not?” “Hang out?” Something about the way Ben caught his eye and held it, Kevin knew he was being tested. Like some men tried to break bones when they shook hands, there was an aggressive edge that hid behind that deceptively mild-mannered façade, and Kevin knew if he looked away first, he would lose. Just what he would lose, he wasn’t sure. “Yeah, hang out. I’ll even buy the beer.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper as he reached out with one hand and stroked his index finger slowly up the placket of Ben’s jeans. “You interested?” At least, he hoped it was the placket -- he couldn’t be sure, not wanting to look away to judge his aim better.
Oh, yeah. If Kevin hadn’t been watching so closely, he might not have seen the flare in Ben’s eyes, or heard the catch in his breathing. But he was. And he did. “O-Okay. Sure. Why not?”
***** “So how much are they soaking you for for this place? Do you mind my asking?” Naming a figure that was nearly twice what Kevin paid for his one-bedroom apartment, Ben unlocked the front door to his townhome. It was a nice part of the city, and since he’d watched the complex go up just a couple of years ago, Kevin knew it wasn’t forty years old like his was, either. “Wow. Does that include maid service?” “Judge for yourself.”
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Ben’s derisive snort told most of the story. As he flipped switches in the light panel next to the door, a fixture overhead blazed to life, illuminating the entryway, and Kevin understood the rest. It was empty. Peering into the darkness beyond the light’s reach, Kevin revised his initial assessment. It wasn’t completely empty. Just almost. Ben closed the door behind them and dropped his keys into a bowl next to it. The bowl looked expensive. But not as expensive as the tall, narrow stand it perched on. They both looked like something out of a museum. The room just off the entryway was meant to be a living room but, as it stood, Kevin didn’t think it had earned the name. Unlike his parents’ overstuffed clutter, or even his own place, filled with department store bargains, this room was bare save for a lone framed print hanging over the fireplace. Kevin walked over to get a closer look. It looked old. The frame and print itself didn’t, but the subject matter obviously was. The clothes looked dated, and the microphone in the background of the picture looked antique. An African-American man played a saxophone that seemed more an extension of his body than a musical instrument. Charlie Parker -- Paris, 1949. “Nice.” Lame. Kevin could tell it was important, but he had no idea why. Or what kind of comment he should make. “You know Bird?” Standing at the edge of the room, hands in his pockets, Ben looked ... alone. Kevin shrugged a little. “Not really. Just the name.” They each stood there for another few seconds, and, although they both looked in the same direction, Kevin couldn’t tell what Ben saw when he looked at the picture of Charlie Parker. Turning back, Kevin saw Ben’s back disappearing as he walked out of the room. Looking up at the picture one last time, Kevin trailed after Ben.
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He found him in the kitchen, reaching into the back of a drawer and pulling out a can opener. Next he opened a costly-looking refrigerator with a stainless-steel finish, retrieved two long-necked bottles, and removed the tops before handing one to Kevin. “All right. Mexican beer. I think I can hang out with you, after all.” Kevin tried a smile, but it was tough going. Whatever the deal with the picture was, the mood lingered. “Yeah? Why’s that?” “My people. Abuelo would approve.” Grunting a little before taking a respectable-sized pull off the bottle, Ben didn’t comment. Kevin tried again. “So. You normally a beer drinker?” “‘Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.’” “That a quote?” “Ben Franklin. A very wise man. He was ahead of his time in a lot of ways.” It looked like they were settling in for a conversation. Kevin looked around for a chair, but the kitchen, like the living room, was almost completely barren. No table and chairs in the breakfast nook. Not even pots or pans in evidence. Just the refrigerator and a coffeemaker. Did the man eat at all? Kevin took a sip from his beer. He hadn’t paid much attention in history class. And just what was the polite response to a remark like that, anyway? “Yeah?” “Yeah. The man was an inventor. And he liked sex a lot. He had, like, about a hundred kids.” Was Ben messing with him? Kevin couldn’t tell. He seemed serious, though. And not even he got wasted from one half of one beer. “A hundred?” “Okay, fifty. My point is ...” Ben paused. “I’m willing to bet the esteemed Mr. Franklin was pretty inventive when it came to getting his rocks off.”
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Kevin had no idea where this was going. This was so far beyond his realm of experience, it could hardly be measured. But there was a tension in the air and it was growing. Like his dick. “Inventive, like, how?” It was getting harder to make coherent speech. Harder to focus on anything besides what was beginning to swell in his pants. “Like, kick off your shoes.” Leaning back against the opposing counter, Ben tucked one hand under an armpit while he folded the other arm across his chest. Kevin wondered fleetingly what that chest looked like under its nondescript, dark, collarless shirt. “Go on. Do it.” He realized he’d been so busy staring, he hadn’t moved. Prying off first one shoe, then the other, Kevin reached down to pull off his socks before looking up. Excitement mixed with anxiety roiled around in his gut. Where was this going? “Pants next. You can do it. You know you want to.” Ben put the narrow mouth of the beer bottle to his lips, and Kevin watched, fascinated, while Ben traced the opening with his tongue. Took a quick foray into it before tipping it up nearly vertical and taking it into his mouth. Ben pulled it back out, holding Kevin’s gaze the entire time, before grinning wickedly. “Come on, let’s see what you’ve got.” With fingers gone suddenly numb, Kevin fought his belt and pants opening. He would have welcomed some help, but Ben seemed to enjoy watching him struggle, until finally he had them off. Stepping out of them, Kevin began automatically to fold them neatly. “Drop them. Kick them away.” It went completely against a lifetime of training, but Kevin did as he was told. “Now get up on the counter.” Bracing his arms behind him, Kevin had a split-second to think about how the cold granite surface would feel before he hoisted himself up. The room itself was on the cool side, but the stone really held on to the cold, and he caught his breath when his skin touched it. It never crossed his mind to refuse.
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“Like that?” Kevin hoped his voice didn’t sound as squeaky to Ben as it did to his own ears. Christ, he sounded like he was going through puberty a second time. “Perfect.” Ben dropped his arms and uncoiled from his position leaning against the counter. “That’s perfect.” Ben’s hands were coming up from his sides as he approached, and Kevin’s dick twitched in anticipation. But Ben only removed his glasses, carefully lifting the delicate gold frames from their resting places around his ears. “You don’t need them?” Ben set the glasses down on the counter to Kevin’s left, smiling a little as he shook his head. “Uh-uh. Not for this.” He took a big pull off his beer, the biggest Kevin had seen him take, filling his mouth with it. Bracing his hands to either side of Kevin’s knees, he lowered his head and took Kevin into his mouth. Cold was seeping into his muscles where Kevin’s bare ass met the granite countertop, and he flinched, expecting the beer to be cold, too. But the warmth of Ben’s mouth, still full of the foamy brew, wrapped around him and kept him warm. Ben’s tongue, made even more slippery by the drink, flicked and darted. Moaning appreciatively, Ben’s mouth slid slowly over and around Kevin’s cock, his moan creating vibrations that went straight to Kevin’s balls. The pace Ben set with his mouth, though, was torturously slow. Kevin slipped his hand around Ben’s head, threading his finger through the short blond hair there. But Ben wouldn’t be rushed. He circled the corona, flirting with the sensitive head, forming a firm “O” with his lips, which he worked back and forth over it. Every time Ben pulled away, Kevin strained, nearly vibrating from the tension of trying not to move. Not to follow. Then that wondrous mouth was back, slicking down over Kevin’s cock, plunging him deep into a fiery cavern, making him forget all about the chill to his backside.
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As his balls began to tighten, tingling in earnest now as his body raced toward completion, Ben suddenly pulled away, taking his mouth and all the pleasure with it. “Shit, no.” His involuntary cry of protest was cut off when Ben grasped Kevin’s face and jaw with one hand. “No. You can’t come yet.” Ben’s voice was gritty with authority, and Kevin had no choice but to obey. “I want to watch. And I want you to watch, too.” Letting his hand fall away, Ben cradled Kevin’s balls with one hand, while the other wrapped around his cock. Pumping slowly, Ben moved Kevin’s cock closer to his body as he simultaneously opened the hand that was caressing his balls. “So fucking beautiful.” It seemed like only moments to Kevin, watching as the other man’s hand pumped his cock with a no-nonsense motion, before he was again teetering on the edge -- ready to come. “Ben, please ... I’ve got to ... I can’t hold back.” Lifting his gaze for the first time since he’d begun stroking Kevin, Ben looked him in the eye. “Okay. C’mon. Give it up. Give it to me.” Kevin fought the desire to close his eyes and concentrate on the pleasure. But Ben continued to murmur encouragement while the fingers working his cock were relentless, and within seconds he hurtled over the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed over him, nearly toppling him. Instead of releasing him, Ben used both hands to milk his cock, making the orgasm go on and on.
***** It slowly dawned on Kevin that he was sitting half-naked in a strange kitchen -- on a countertop, for Christ’s sake. It felt a little odd, now that he had himself back under control. Well, almost under control, anyway. Kevin was thinking about the last time, when he’d gone down on Ben. That had been weird, but fun. Hot. He wanted to ask Ben if he’d been, well, okay. If he’d done it all right. But what if he said no? What if he’d done something hopelessly badly?
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Thoughts of reciprocity and blowjobs were scattered when the hands at the end of Kevin’s dick stirred. Oh, crap. He’d done it again. Gone off into his own little haze of pleasure and forgotten about Ben. Shit. When was he going to get the hang of this? Releasing Kevin’s cock, Ben straightened a little and looked at his hands. They were covered in warm, sticky cum. Smiling, he held one out to Kevin, as though to offer it, one questioning eyebrow lifted. “No, that’s okay.” “Then mind if I ...?” Ben lifted one hand to his mouth and licked at his fingers, for all the world as if he was enjoying an ice cream cone. “Uh, whatever, dude.” Kevin moved to slide off the countertop, but Ben blocked him by stepping even closer between his legs and dropping both hands to Kevin’s knees. “Hold on. C’mere.” Reaching up with both hands, Ben slid his fingers into Kevin’s hair, grasped his head in both hands, and pulled him down for a kiss. Kevin sat frozen in shock while cool lips that tasted of beer and something else, something more salty and a little bitter, moved over his. His head tilted a bit to one side, Ben moved his mouth over Kevin’s with gentle suction, tracing Kevin’s lips with his tongue. Something rose up inside him and Kevin panicked. He shoved hard against Ben’s chest. “Whoa. No way. No way.” Ben staggered back a couple of steps. He just stood there, looking at Kevin and breathing hard. “What the hell was that?” His mouth opened, as though to respond, but Ben just closed it, shook his head, and said nothing. “Dude, did you just kiss me? You can’t do that. That’s just ...” Kevin sputtered. His gut was churning and his head was spinning, thoughts ricocheting through it randomly. Hanging
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out that first night at the restaurant. The computer store. Down on his knees, sucking Ben’s cock. The kiss. “You can’t do that.” Kevin jumped down off the counter and began looking for his clothes. He found his pants first -- no sign of his underwear. Shoving one leg into the pants, his foot encountered the boxers halfway down the pants leg. Confusion was rapidly being displaced by anger, and he jammed his foot further into the pants, the underwear falling out the bottom. Repeating the process with the other leg, Kevin yanked the pants closed and pulled up the zipper, not bothering with niceties like the top button. The important thing was getting dressed and getting the hell out of there. He glanced up at Ben, who hadn’t moved. He just stood there, watching Kevin get dressed. Grabbing his socks and shoes, Kevin stuffed the socks in his pocket and pulled his shoes on before turning to face Ben. “Dude, that’s just wrong. Don’t kiss me, okay? God, what are you, gay?” Ben just stood there, giving him an even look. The fact that he didn’t look as pissed as Kevin felt freaked him out even more, if that was possible. “I gotta get out of here. See you around.”
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Chapter Six
Ben removed his glasses, laid his hands on his desk, and lowered his head until his forehead rested on the cool, even surface. He promised himself it would only be for a minute. His head was pounding with a dull ache located directly behind his eyes. He felt as though he were standing on a precipice, where the least little push would topple him. Would that be so bad, though? Rocking his head slowly from side to side, he let the cool of the surface ease the pounding in his head. All it would take at this point would be one more department head laying down impossible demands, on an unreasonable timeline, paid for with a nonexistent budget line item, to push him over. Footsteps in the hallway alerted him in time to pick his head up off the desk. All he needed was to get the reputation for sleeping on the job. Already Ben was getting the feeling that his grace period for being the new guy was running out. The more the job paid, the less slack they were willing to cut guys who couldn’t deliver. And he’d gotten the job because he’d convinced the execs at EcoDyne that he was the go-to guy to solve their problems. He was only now beginning to appreciate exactly why the job paid so well.
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Because it was freaking impossible. Every exec and department head had a different idea of what the problem was and how it should be solved. Not to mention why their particular piece of the problem should be the number-one top priority in the company; and therefore, by extension, his life. When the footsteps didn’t stop, but kept going past Ben’s office, he let out the breath he’d been holding and put his head back down. He was ducking out on a meeting he considered non-essential -- not that the department head he was snubbing was likely to look at it that way. This particular D.H. demanded even more time and attention than most of Ben’s colleagues and had even been known to send underlings to hunt down anyone with the temerity to balk. “Hey, boss.” Francie’s voice startled Ben. His admin was a great kid, hardworking and loyal. But more than once, she’d taken years off Ben’s life with her silent entrances and could be counted on to scare the crap out of him at least once a week, on average. “David’s on the phone. They’re asking for you in Exec.” “What did you tell him?” Her smile was one of her nicest features, both sunny and mischievous, and it lightened Ben’s mood just to see it. Although he might not have needed it quite so much if her stealthy arrival hadn’t caused him to jerk his head up so fast it felt like his brains were about to pour out of one ear. “I told him I wasn’t sure where you were, but that I’d look for you. So,” she leaned one hand on the doorjamb, “did I find you?” Ben sighed and put his glasses back on. “Yeah. Tell him I’m tied up on the phone. I’ll be there in five.” He was on the downhill slide. With only a couple of hours left in the work day, he told himself he could grit his teeth and get through one more bloody meeting. Holy hell. Someone remind him why had he thought he wanted this job in the first place?
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Oh, yeah. Money. Money was good. It put food on the table and a roof over his head. Ben tried to pinpoint if not the moment then at least the year when he had stopped being the rebellious loner and started worrying about the mortgage. Probably when he’d realized there were an awful lot of Toms in the world and he’d better look after himself because no one else was going to. Francie turned to go and let out a whoop of surprise when she came close to flattening the next person through his door. Ben saw her take a step, then bounce back after colliding with something large and solid. “Kevin. Ohmigosh, I didn’t hear you. Are you alright?” Perfect. His torment was complete when, after reassuring Francie, Kevin stepped into his office. “K.B. What can I do for you?” There. That sounded normal. Just a regular, everyday greeting to a coworker. Nary a hint of lovesick homosexual pining for the unattainable. “Hey, Ben. Dave asked me to see if there was anything I could help you with.” “Help me with?” Ben gripped his elbows and let them take his weight as he leaned forward on the desk. Kevin looked great. A little stiff, but great. Like he’d swallowed the preppie handbook. Or had it coded into this DNA, more likely. Navy pants and a long-sleeved pale blue shirt contrasted nicely with his light mocha skin. There was no doubt those creases came from the dry cleaner and not, like his own, from being left in the dryer too long, His conservative tie was loosened, but everything else looked by the book. Kevin’s gaze moved around the room, never landing anywhere for long. The poor guy looked miserable. It was a safe bet that he’d tried to beg off the errand only to be overruled by his boss.
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“I’m supposed to hurry you along. Dave doesn’t want to start the meeting without you.” A pathetic sap was what Ben was. His gaze followed the path of Kevin’s eyes, from picture to window to tchotchke, hoping to catch even a glimpse of their deep brown color. If things had been different, he would have liked to go home to a good dinner, open a really superb bottle of wine, and gaze into those eyes until he drowned in them. And if he was any kind of a decent human being, he’d send Kevin back to the meeting, message delivered. “Thanks. Can you hold on for a second? I have something for Dave, but it’ll take me a minute to lay my hands on it.” Now he’d have to come up with something, since he’d resorted to a total fabrication in order to keep Kevin hanging around two minutes longer. Fishing through the cascading rack of file folders Francie had organized on his credenza, Ben came up with some preliminary figures on the new electronic storage system he’d been working on. It wasn’t nearly ready, but since he’d opened his mouth and let his evil twin do the talking, he had no choice but to punt. “Here.” He honestly meant to hand the file to Kevin. Really. His better self knew it was wrong, but he was weak. When Kevin reached out to grasp the folder, instead of letting go, Ben hung onto it. Until Kevin looked up from the folder and met his gaze. Ben felt the jolt to his system like an electrical shock that centered in his crotch. Chiding himself for his immaturity, Ben made himself let go, and Kevin turned to leave. “Hold on, I’ll walk back with you.” Kevin stopped in midstride at his words. “That is, if you don’t mind.” His conscience made him add the last bit, albeit reluctantly. Kevin answered without turning around. “No. Of course not.”
*****
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“So what do you think I should do?” Ben as guidance counselor -- it was a stretch, but he was giving it the old college try. “What do you want to do?” People tended not to take Francie very seriously, Ben had noticed. Maybe it was the purple sheen to her otherwise black hair or the tight T-shirts and low-slung pants she favored. But despite having a first-rate mind, even her coworkers in the IT department tended to give her ideas short shrift. “I want to keep seeing him. But he’s so immature sometimes. You know?” They stood outside Ben’s office, each with a cup of department coffee in hand. He couldn’t believe, in this day and age, that admins were still expected to bring coffee and other refreshments to their bosses. Ben was so uncomfortable with the subservience implied by the custom that he’d instituted the rule that Francie was not allowed to fetch coffee for him unless she was having some herself. The result was that the two of them often chatted while they enjoyed a cup, passing the time and revealing details of their lives. In the course of their conversations, Ben had quickly come to the conclusion that Francie should be running EcoDyne. “Immature, how?” Like he was some freaking great role model. The last thing he’d had that even approached a date had ended with said date running for the hills. It had been two weeks since that night with Kevin in his kitchen, and his balls still ached if he thought about it too long. Working on different floors, he didn’t see Kevin unless they were called to the same meeting, and with the Globe Star transition winding down, that was happening with less and less frequency. “Like,” Francie sighed and twirled a strand of purple-black hair around one finger. “Like, are we together or aren’t we? He wants it both ways. He wants to be able to do what he wants to do, whenever he wants to do it. But he still expects me to be waiting whenever
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he feels like calling. Is it too much to ask him to at least say yes or no? Are we doing something on the weekend or not? Is that reasonable?” She flashed him her big blue eyes, and Ben realized she must drive the boys crazy. Body of a centerfold and way too smart to let them get away with any of their crap. If he ever decided to switch teams, he’d want a girl like Francie on his side. With an expensive haircut and clothes to match, she could conquer the world. But first she’d have to ditch the loser boyfriend and finish college. And learn to stop saying “like.” “Totally. But you’ve got to realize not everyone is as reasonable as you and I. People want what they want, and they’ll keep doing whatever they can get away with until other people call them on it. If he’s not treating you right, you’ve got to make a decision. If he treats you like crap when you’re just his girlfriend, what incentive does he have to change later? You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?” “You think I should break up with him?” Francie cradled her cup in both hands and blew across the top of it, her gaze flickering back and forth from the cup to him. He didn’t think she was flirting with him, per se; it was more of an involuntary reflex on her part. Ben shrugged. “Depends. If you like the way you’re being treated, then no. Just don’t expect him to change.” “Aw, man ...” Twisting one foot back and forth on the four-inch heel of one shoe, Francie shot him a glance from beneath her lashes. “I knew you were going to say something like that.” “Hey, Francie. Ben.” Kevin. Ben suppressed another startled response as he turned to greet Kevin and made a mental note to add more mirrors to the department. Failing that, he’d start putting bells on people. His heart couldn’t take it.
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He didn’t need to ask the nature of Kevin’s errand. In one hand he held the remains of a computer mouse, now in pieces. “You need help putting that back together?” So help him, when the words left his mouth, he hadn’t been thinking of the last time he’d helped the man with a computer problem. It was a bad habit, and he’d have to learn the knack of thinking before saying the first thing that struck him as being clever. Kevin obviously took it as a taunt, though, his expression going positively mulish. “What I need is a mouse that works. Can I get an optical one? This thing is a piece of crap.” Ben opened his mouth to say “of course,” but Francie took her role as inventory specialist seriously and beat him to the punch. “Did you put in a req for it?” “No. I didn’t.” Kevin had the look of a man on the edge, and Francie was no dummy. Heaving a longsuffering sigh, she gave in. “Okay. But you still have to fill out the paperwork. Just a sec.” While Francie retreated to the locked room where unused inventory was held, Ben and Kevin were left to look anywhere but at each other. Ben cracked first. “So, how’s it going?” Kevin always looked good. Some combination of genetics and great taste in clothes, Ben decided. Today he wore khaki-colored pants with a dark green shirt. He looked good enough to eat. “Going okay. How about you?” No question, Ben had blown any chance of anything with Kevin. The man would hardly look at him. “Good, thanks.” Francie emerged from the inventory room with the new mouse. Kevin took it while Ben tried not to be envious of Francie because she got to touch Kevin’s hand. “Hey, this one has a cord. Can I get wireless?”
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But this time not even a pair of bottomless brown eyes worked, and Francie swatted Kevin down without a second glance. As he left using the same route he’d come in by, an absent “thanks” thrown over his shoulder, two pairs of eyes watched him go. Francie heaved a theatrical sigh. “Wow. He is so hot. Don’t you think?”
***** Surveying the contents of the lunchroom vending machine, Ben meditated on the bad rap junk food got. Was a Snickers bar really all that different than an energy bar? He didn’t think so. And microwave popcorn. Not only was it a vegetable, but it provided much-needed fiber to the discerning gourmet’s diet. Wasn’t the AMA -- that naggy parent of governmental agencies -- always yammering on at people to eat more fiber? Shortbread cookies topped with raspberry jam. There was your fruit. Not a bad deal. Tonight, though, it was the chocolate-covered snack cakes that called to Ben. By nine o’clock on a Friday night, there wasn’t much left in the machine, and Ben had long ago given up on trying to find a pizza place that would deliver to EcoDyne. The local lunch place closed down at three, and he’d never had his shit together enough to bring a lunch. No, that required planning; not to mention food in the house. Deciding Ho-Hos would make a fine dinner, Ben reached into his pocket for change. Nothing. Not even a quarter. Resisting the urge to bang his head against the machine, Ben surveyed his options as his stomach rumbled in protest. He weighed the opportunity to run the files Finance was screaming for while at the same time finishing up the work-flow analysis he needed for Monday’s meeting, against the urge to go home, kill a six-pack, and wallow in self-pity. He would flip a coin when he got back to his office. No, check that. He didn’t have a coin. He would have to find another way to decide. Life sucked.
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It wasn’t even as though he had anyone else to blame for his troubles. He’d known going in that he had the proverbial snowball’s chance of anything besides the boatload of grief that would come from taking Kevin home with him. Things were tough enough to work out when both people knew the score going in. It was his own stupid, self-destructive fault for letting it happen. He had chosen to open himself up to a bi-curious virgin and -what do you know? -- he’d gotten burned. Again. Maybe there was something to that whole lemming phenomenon. He’d known what the outcome was likely to be, and he’d still hurled himself off the cliff. The very qualities that drew him to people like Kevin were the same ones that made them such a bad risk. Apparently just understanding his dilemma wasn’t enough. It probably required something difficult, like a change in behavior. Hadn’t he just finished telling Francie the same thing? Casting a wistful glance at the unobtainable package of snack cakes in the machine, Ben left the lunchroom and headed toward the island of light that was his office. He stopped dead in his tracks as he entered it. As though conjured out of thin air by Ben’s thoughts, there Kevin sat, big as life in his office’s guest chair. “You must be lost. You can’t have meant to end up down here.” Kevin looked up, and Ben was struck, as always, by the beauty of his eyes. Dark and heavily lashed, they were set deep on either side of an elegant nose, and Ben wanted to fall into them. It was more than a week since the computer mouse incident -- the last time Ben had laid eyes on him. Dressed in jeans for casual Friday, Kevin nevertheless wore a longsleeved white shirt; only the cuffs were folded back to reveal strong forearms with a light dusting of dark hair. “Hey, Ben. I ...” Kevin fiddled with a pencil Ben hadn’t noticed before, rolling it from finger to finger. Watching from the doorway, Ben sifted through the limited number of possible reasons for Kevin’s visit, rejecting them all. “I’ve been thinking. Do you ...? Would you ...?”
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Ben’s chest ached with the misery he read on Kevin’s face. God, could the kid be any more uncomfortable? He looked like a contestant on one of those reality shows where he had to eat a jar full of bugs to win the money. Not trusting himself to speak, Ben shoved his hands in his pockets and pressed his lips together. Because Ben knew whatever Kevin suggested, he’d want to go along with it.
Yes. God, yes! Spit it out, Kevin. “Could --” Kevin cleared his throat. “Are you ... still interested in ... hanging out? With me?” Well, what do you know? Kevin had managed to surprise him. Of all the possibilities, that was the one that hadn’t occurred to Ben. Of all the -“Hanging out?” Kevin was working hard at looking normal -- nonchalant, even -- and failing miserably. Ben had seen pictures of death row prisoners who looked more relaxed. “Yeah. Like, you know, like before. At my place. Or yours.” An idea, an inkling, was beginning to dawn in Ben’s head, so he tested his theory. “Like before? Like, jack-off buddies, you mean? A blow-and-go?” Relief washed over Kevin’s face and, for the first time, a genuine smile came to his face. “Yeah. Exactly. That’s what I was trying to say.” “No kissing, though.” Kevin nodded again. “Right. No kissing. Just, kind of, hang out. Do stuff.” Kevin stood up. “Cool. So, that’s yes?” Ben let his gaze move slowly over Kevin’s face. So beautiful. So perfect. So exactly Ben’s weakness. “I can’t, Kev. I wish I could, but I can’t.” Confusion coming to his fine eyes, Kevin pulled himself up straighter. “Why not?”
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“Because I want more. I want the kissing. And everything else.” Ben swallowed over the dry lump in his throat. “I -- You’d better go, Kev.” “But ... Jesus, Ben. If you want to, then why not?”
Because I can’t look at you, be with you, and not want to kiss you. And hold you. Make love. Fuck you. But you don’t want to hear that. Any of it. “Because I’m gay.” “No, you’re not. I’m not. I’m not.” “Keep telling yourself that, Kevin. Just keep telling yourself that.”
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Chapter Seven
Sitting on the sidelines while the damas and chambeláns danced, Kevin nursed a beer and brooded. The rented hall was crowded, stuffed to the rafters with relatives, all celebrating his cousin Ana’s quinceañera. The whole clan had gathered to help celebrate. Even big brother Joe and his wife had flown in from Northern California. Family. It was everything in his culture. A quinceañera was just one symbol. Just like Ana would be treated differently now that she was fifteen years old and being presented to the community by her family as an adult, though they might be living in America -- even born here -- traditional values were still as much a part of him as the color of his eyes. First communion, Three Kings Day, respect for his elders, love of family -- Kevin had been raised with all of these things. He looked around the room and realized he’d have to choose. Give up these things, or turn his back on what he was discovering about himself and never speak of it again. As hard as he tried to put Ben out of his mind, though, Kevin hadn’t been able to do it. In fact, it seemed like the harder he tried, the more insistent memories and bits of conversation were about forcing themselves on his conscious mind.
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“Keep telling yourself that, Kevin.” Ben’s words replayed themselves in Kevin’s head, over and over. Applause and gritos signaled the end of a dance. Kevin watched as Tío Juan took his daughter’s hand and led her onto the floor for another dance. Ana would be treated as an adult now and old enough to date. How many times had he heard the story of his parents meeting at his mother’s quinceañera? They had waited two whole years, until his mother was seventeen, to be married. Practically an old maid in her village in rural Chalapas. Telling himself that his memories were exaggerations wasn’t helping, either. Kevin tried summoning thoughts of the last time he’d been with Jessica, but that hadn’t worked. The memory of a so-so sexual encounter was followed by other memories of dealing with Jess’s assumptions that they were a now an official couple and the next thing to being engaged. But every time Kevin tried to think about sex with Jess, newer, hotter memories of his time with Ben pushed them aside. Kevin slapped the table he leaned on in frustration. A blowjob was a blowjob. Wasn’t it? How could one be so much hotter -- more satisfying -than another? He couldn’t even jack off decently any more. He could stroke himself and get hard, no problem. But the only way he’d been able to come had been to think of Ben’s hands touching him. Ben’s mouth sucking him. Ben doing anything to him. Ben fucking him.
No! Slamming the door on any attempt of a thought like that to make itself heard, Kevin searched the room for his sister Lucy. He and Luz had always been close. Maybe he could talk to her. He had to talk to someone or he’d go crazy. His work friends were out of the question. He didn’t want to feel like the people he worked side-by-side with were watching him out of the corners of their eyes, waiting for him to make a move on them. Same for his childhood friends. He’d known Cruz Martinez since the third grade. They’d been through everything together, from Boy Scouts to first dates to college. How
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could he tell Cruz that he found himself craving sex with another man like he’d never craved anything in his life? Kevin couldn’t begin to imagine himself telling Cruz something like that. He couldn’t stop himself. But he couldn’t let himself. He was losing his mind. Lucy, though. He could talk to her. Lucy was blood. He’d protected her from the time they were both small. He’d stood between her and Joe when Joe had been growing into his role as stand-in for their father while Papá had been away, working a job out of town, and Joe had taken the role a touch too seriously. And when Lucy and Lana had been going through the worst of their feud years, Kevin had always taken Lucy’s side. Somehow the years separating him and Lucy from Joe and Lana had made them natural allies. “Luz!” Kevin spotted her across the hall, leaning against the wall talking to Ana’s oldest brother, smarmy cousin Hernán, while Hernán didn’t even try to be discreet about checking out Lucy’s breasts. “Luz, I need to talk to you. This loser can wait.”
“¿Qué chingados quieres, cabrón?” Kevin didn’t feel like repeating history by wasting his time on Hernán. “Nada de tí,
baboso.” “Kevin, you better pray Mamá didn’t hear you talk like that. She still calls you the perfect one.” An involuntary bark of laughter burst from him as he pushed open a side door and held it open for Lucy to walk through. “What’s so funny? It’s true.” Lucy was the shrimp of the family, and even with the high heels she wore, she still had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “Whenever you’re not around, she’s always boring the rest of us with the latest news from the perfect life of perfect Kevin.”
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Scrubbing one hand over his face, Kevin scrambled for an opening in the conversation. Once he’d seized on the idea of talking to Lucy, he hadn’t taken the time to really think it through. He hadn’t gotten beyond the idea that he’d finally found someone to talk to and figured out what he was going to say or how he was going to say it. “Luz, I ...” “What?” She cocked her head to one side, her hair pulled back from her pretty face, twisted into some complicated-looking thing at the back of her head, and skewered with a stick. “What’s so important you dragged me outside like your ass was on fire? And just when I had Hernán right where I wanted him. Well, maybe not exactly where I wanted him, but I was getting there.” Lucy’s eyes got a lazy, slumberous look to them, as though she was thinking of -“Hernán? You would ... with ...” Kevin couldn’t find words for the disgust that rolled over him. “Hernán? He’s your cousin. That’s just sick.” “Second cousin. And isn’t it about time you just got over yourself, big brother? For one thing, I am old enough to do whatever I want, and you have exactly mangos to say about it. Second, I’m not going to marry him, so whether he’s my cousin or not has nothing to do with nothing. And third, I hear he’s got un pinto muy --” “Stop!” He slapped his hand over Lucy’s mouth. “Luz, please. I can only deal with so much.” Shrugging, Lucy took a step back, away from Kevin’s hand. “Okay. Whatever. So what did you want to talk about, anyway?” Kevin shoved his hands in his pockets and fiddled with the loose change there while he stared at his shoes and searched for the perfect words. Once he opened his mouth, there would be no going back. “Luz, I ...” Kevin’s throat closed up over the words he couldn’t force out.
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A warm hand on his forearm made him look up. “You’re serious here, aren’t you?” Lucy had the Beltrán eyes, and it was somehow comforting to see the same eyes he saw in the mirror every day looking back at him with love and concern. “Yeah, Luz. I -- can we sit down?” A half-dozen steps away was a sturdy-looking wrought iron bench. Once seated, Kevin couldn’t make himself look at his sister while he said what was on his mind. “Luz, I --” “Spit it out, Kevin. What, are you sick? Did you lose your job? What?” “Worse, Luz.” Eyes closed, he fought the nausea that roiled in his stomach. “Luz, I think I’m gay.” Lucy stared at him, her mouth a perfect “O” of surprise. A second later, though, she burst into laughter and punched his arm. “Pendejo! I believed you, you asshole. You are such a --” Kevin chanced a look at his sister’s face and watched the laughter drain gradually away from it. “Kevin, are you serious?” The quiet concern in her voice comforted him, but only a fraction. A hand began to rub his shoulder. “You’re sure? Ay, Carlos ...” Her childhood name for him -- a custom shared by just the two of them -- did him in. His eyes burned and he fought the tears. The last thing he could do was cry. Pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, Kevin nodded. Then shook his head. Nodded again. “Oh, Carlos.” “I don’t know what to do, Luz. What do I do?” “You don’t sound happy about.” Dropping his hands from his eyes, Kevin had to clear his throat to speak. Lifting his gaze to meet hers, to his horror he felt a tear roll down his face. “Would you be?” “Sweetie.” She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. Can I ask ... how do you know? No, forget I said that. What are you going to do? Tell Mamá y Papá?”
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“How can I, Luz? Perfect Kevin can’t be gay. They’ll die. You know how Mamá is about wanting grandkids.” Kevin had never been so absolutely miserable in his entire life. If telling Lucy was this hard, how could he ever -- ever -- tell his parents? His friends. His family. “Baby, I don’t know. But I think you might be making a bigger deal out of this than it is.” “Yeah?” Kevin didn’t try to hide the incredulity in his voice. “Not a big deal, huh? Can’t you just see me introducing my ... my what? Boyfriend? Lover? At the next Sunday dinner? At the next tamalada?” “First of all, you never come to the tamaladas, carbon. That’s for us women. Secondly, don’t you remember Tío José? Mom’s brother, José. The one Joe’s named after. Honey, what did you think, he was just a snappy dresser? That he was picky and couldn’t find the right woman? Carlos, I’m telling you, I think it’s going to be okay.” It was hard to put aside the fear and shame that gripped him, but Kevin searched his memory for a face to match to the name. He remembered a good-looking man at family gatherings, but not much more. “Tío José. No, what’s his story? I haven’t kept up.” “You haven’t seen him much because he and his partner moved to Miami. Tío Gerardo. You don’t remember his partner, Jerry? When I was about six, he gave me permission to call him Tío. Serious? You don’t remember?” Kevin could only shake his head. “No. I don’t.” “God, Kevin. You’ve always been a little self-involved, but jeez. You’d better not tell Mamá.” “Better not tell Mamá what?” They both whipped their heads around so fast it was a miracle they didn’t knock their skulls together. Mamá. And Joe was with her. Kevin closed his eyes in abject misery. “Oh, it’s not that big a deal. I’m trying to tell Kevin, here, that it won’t be any big deal to you that he’s gay. Because of Tío Jose.”
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“Luz!” Before he could slap a hand over her mouth, the words were out. Spoken. There was no going back. “Shut the fuck up.” Joe’s softly muttered curse of disbelief followed on the heels of Kevin’s. “Un joto? Un maricón? Un puñal?!” “Joseph! You will not use those words again. That kind of talk is not allowed in my house. You may think that because you’re a grown man and no longer under my roof, that you can say whatever you like. But I brought you into this world and, by the Blessed Virgin, you will not speak that way about your brother or anyone else in my hearing. Is that clear?” The silence was deafening. Kevin looked up at his mother -- all five-foot-nothing of her -- as she glared at his brother. But when she finally turned to Kevin, she wore only her usual expression of love and concern. “Luz, please.” His mother had spoken in Spanish, as she did whenever her emotions got the better of her. She motioned his sister to get up and took Lucy’s place beside him on the bench. Lucy made room for their mother and went to stand next to Joe, but not before she’d smacked him hard on the shoulder, a muttered curse whispered beneath her breath. “M’ijo ...” Kevin’s mother brushed a lock of hair back from where it had fallen over his eyes, still speaking the language she knew best, just the way she’d done from the time he was small when she spoke from the heart. “You are who you are. You are a good man. Since you were a baby, I’ve watched you grow, and I have never been anything but proud of you. It takes a thousand things to make a man, and he is more than just who he loves. Do you think I love you less because you’re different? Different isn’t bad and it’s not good. It’s just different.”
***** Man, he hoped he was doing the right thing. This had the potential to blow up in his face in a big, big way. Kevin had to do it, though. He had to see what else there was to this side of himself he’d discovered.
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A good place to start would be apologizing to Ben. He owed him one, that’s for sure. As he drove, the winter sky gradually lightening into morning, Kevin thought back on the last time he’d been with Ben; the uncomfortable cycle of emotions that had become horribly familiar kicked on and began to churn through him. Heat, first and foremost, when he thought about Ben’s hands and mouth on him. When he thought about Ben taking off his glasses and looking up at him from between his thighs, Jesus, he about went off in his pants. Then Ben licking Kevin’s cum off his fingers, like the most delicious dessert he’d ever tasted, was so unbearably hot it made his head swim. All of it followed, though, by the shame and guilt he’d come to feel over the way he’d treated Ben. He’d treated the man badly. No. It was time to start being honest with himself, and that included admitting just how much of a thoughtless, self-centered asshole he’d been. He’d as good as used Ben to get off, then run out like a scared little girl. Oh, and don’t forget he’d insulted the man, just to make things really shitty. What a pathetic little wimp he’d been. Since the quinceañera yesterday, Kevin had been over it and over it in his mind. The chain of events that had begun with accidentally running into Ben and his friend at the restaurant, sitting down for a drink with them, the things he had done and what they had taught him about himself. Running through it all was a rightness to what he felt when he was with Ben. So much so that it scared the living shit out of him. Looking back on his life, people and events came back to him, and he looked at them with new eyes. Remembering his teen years, Kevin could recall odd little flashes: Being hyper-aware of his male friends’ and schoolmates’ bodies. The way his eye was drawn to broad shoulders that tapered to a trim waist and the high, tight butt of one using a weight machine in the gym. Or the precise shape and curve of thigh muscles bunching and stretching as another ran laps beside Kevin.
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At the time, if he’d let himself wonder about it at all, he’d chalked it up to a natural desire to compare other bodies to his own. Or -- very occasionally -- when he’d found himself wondering about the bulge beneath another man’s pants, he’d reassured himself that it was just an excess of hormones built up without an available outlet. But was it? The truth was, Kevin didn’t know. He didn’t know, and it was killing him not to. Had he always felt this way and hidden it from himself and others? He didn’t fucking know, and it was making him completely crazy. Kevin had been up most of the night, and he was tired. But, at the same time, he wondered if he’d ever sleep again. His mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Between thinking about his past, his family, recent events, and possibilities for the future, Kevin’s thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour. And every one of them was interspersed with random thoughts and images. Running his hand down the slope of Ben’s bare ass. Going down on Ben again. Running hands through his hair; gripping it while he fucked Ben’s mouth. And sex. As in, full-on penetration, anal sex. He’d never done that. Not with anyone. He’d never found a girl who’d said yes, and the alternative ... well, if it had ever occurred to him, he’d never let it linger in his mind for long. He sure as hell was now. But could he go through with it? God’s honest truth, Kevin didn’t know. Besides, first he had to get through the door when it would serve him right if Ben slammed it in his selfish, undeserving face. What other options did he have, though? Call the man up for a date? In his head, he could already hear the snap of the phone case closing when Ben hung up on him.
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If Kevin was going to be able to live with himself, he owed it to the man to do this face to face. As much as he’d like to crawl into a hole and pretend it had never happened, he had to do the right thing. He had to do the right thing. He would start with an apology and see if he had what it took to make things right. He was nearly there. Following a hunch, he pulled his truck into a deserted strip mall and pulled up in front of the only business open at this hour of the morning. Walking briskly to the counter, he pulled out his wallet and told the man behind it what he wanted.
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Chapter Eight
Shit. That sounded obnoxiously like knocking on his front door. Who the hell would be up and around at -- Ben squinted and tried to make the blurred numbers on his alarm come into focus -- seven-thirty in the fucking morning? The up part he could understand. People had insomnia all the time. Things on their minds might keep them unpleasantly awake until all hours, rousing them from any fitful sleep they might fall into at long last. But around? Jesus, he hated morning people. Swinging his legs out of bed and grabbing his glasses, Ben headed for the door. If this was another courtesy call from the management company to inform him of yet more improvements to the complex, some poor employee was going to get an earful from this particular annoyed townhome owner. Sorry, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass if they were upgrading from pansies to gaillardia in the common area. Just keep the pool clean, the weight room smelling like something other than a gamy crotch, and don’t fucking wake him up at seven-fucking-thirty on a Sunday-fucking-morning. Ben took a quick glance down to make sure his sweats still covered his hips and decided that, although they did, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about that, either. It would serve
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the poor staffer right if she got an eyeful. Let her report back to the supes that folks didn’t appreciate having their Sundays interrupted this way. He yanked the door open and saw ... Kevin. Blank. Ben’s mind went completely blank. His brain’s programming couldn’t follow the coding logic. Kevin had no reason to be here. Forget that he looked amazingly good, considering; which, in Ben’s current caffeine- and sleep-deprived state, only pissed him off more. “K.B.” His first words came out a little rough. Ben cleared his throat before trying for actual speech. “What’s up?” “Hey, Ben. Oh, man. I woke you, didn’t I? Shit, I’m sorry.” Kev’s eyes were still that beautiful dark brown, so dark and liquid they reminded him of black coffee. Coffee. God, he’d kill for some right now. The smell reached him first, and Ben forced his sleep-fogged, hung-over brain to rev up and try to function. Looking down, he spotted the cardboard carrier that hung from the fingers of Kevin’s left hand, holding what looked suspiciously like two extra-large Styrofoam cups of coffee. His gaze slid over to Kevin’s right hand; a grocery-sized bag whose contents remained unidentifiable swung restively from it. Completing the roundtrip, Ben’s gaze returned to Kevin’s face and upgraded his initial assessment to indecently good. Another flash of irritation sliced through him. Goddamn Kevin. How dare he show up here, looking so fucking irresistible, when he knew what it did to Ben? He couldn’t deny him and he couldn’t have him. “Yeah. Sleeping in on a Sunday morning. Imagine that.” Kevin stiffened a bit at the sarcastic tone. Too bad, sweetheart. This was who he was, and if Kevin thought he could show up here and --
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“Listen, Ben, I know I owe you an apology and I -- Can I come in? Just for a few minutes. I’d like to talk to you. Please? Just give me a couple of minutes, and then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise.” Ben hesitated. Every minute with Kevin in his place, especially looking and -- Ben sniffed -- smelling as good as he did, would be torture. “I brought coffee and bagels. Just a guess, but the last time I was here ...” Yeah, the last time Kevin had been here. Ben stared at him. Twist the knife a little more, why didn’t he? “Ben, please.” What a mean, petty little shit of a human being he was, but, God help him, he loved hearing Kevin beg. If things were different, he’d enjoy making Kevin beg even more. Ben,
please. Please fuck me. Pulling away from where he leaned, stiff-armed, against the door, Ben opened it wide. “Sure. Why not?” Kevin stepped inside, and Ben had to fist his hands to keep from reaching for him. As he passed, a wave of longing passed over Ben. Goddammit, Durrance, quit torturing yourself
with what you can’t have. Find a nice gay boy and settle down, would you? For a minute there, he’d thought he had. Walking through the hall to the kitchen area in the back, Kevin set the food and drink down on the counter and offered one of the coffees to Ben. “Here.” Holding out the Styrofoam cup with one hand, Kevin rummaged through the bag, coming up with a handful of creamers and sugar packets. “Help yourself.” Trying not to look like Renfield grabbing at a proffered rodent, Ben took the cup, flipped back the lid, and sucked down some of the steaming brew without bothering to stop for additives. The dark, bitter drink was nirvana just the way it was, and Ben could almost feel the humanity flowing into his veins with every drop.
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“Thanks.” Still doctoring his coffee, stirring in multiple tiny containers’-worth of both sugar and artificial lightener, Kevin seemed entirely focused on the task at hand. Giving Ben the opportunity to run his gaze avidly over the figure Kevin presented. Why was he such a sucker for long legs? Ben didn’t know. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever being so before now. But picturing the legs currently encased so perfectly in worn denim did things to his libido. He’d like to slowly unbutton those jeans, slip his hands inside to feel the taut muscles of that backside, and slide everything off until Kevin stood bare-assed in his kitchen. Ben took another long sip of the coffee that was tasting less perfect and more Qwikee Mart-awful by the minute and imagined pushing the puffy down coat off Kevin’s shoulders. He’d unbutton the shirt next, nudge it open, and run his fingers down the hard abs he knew lay beneath. Oh, yeah, baby. Now they’d be getting somewhere. “I don’t know about you, but I needed that.” Sometime during mid strip-fantasy, Kevin had gotten his own coffee to his liking and drunk a bit down. Snapped out of his reverie, Ben knew a response was called for. “Yeah. Thanks. So, what did you want to talk about?” A mini-scenario played out in his mind, complete with a you-were-right-I’ve-realized-I’m-gay-and-not-only-that-but-I-want-you-bad story line. Ben snorted at the tenacity of his own pathetic neediness. Kevin watched the lid of his coffee carefully as he drank, as though he was afraid it might do something unexpected. Dark lashes fanned out over perfect cheekbones, and lips that spun a thousand fantasies of their own shaped themselves to the cup. Licking at a drop that clung to his top lip, Kevin’s tongue crept out for brief moment before retreating out of sight again. Ben sighed. “Listen, Ben. I know this is probably going to sound totally stupid to you, but ...” Kevin closed his eyes for a moment, steeled himself, opened them again, and went on. “I guess I’ve
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been trying not to look at something. Something about myself. I ... I didn’t want to admit how much I liked being with you. And what we did. Because if I did, I’d have to face what that said about me.” Obviously stalling for time, Kevin paused to take another drink, and Ben gave him space. Dumbfounded as he was, though, Ben doubted he could have spoken if he’d wanted to. He didn’t. He needed to hear what Kevin had to say as much as Kevin needed to say it. “I don’t know if that means I’m gay or not. Probably does, huh?” Kevin summoned a chuckle and looked up. Ben looked back. And just like that, in that moment, Ben felt himself fall the rest of the way in love. He’d been sliding down the slippery slope since their first exchanged glance in that meeting at EcoDyne. However hot the packaging might be, though, without the interior qualities to match, Ben knew he wouldn’t sustain an interest. For the same reason the music of so many modern musicians’ music ended up in a box gathering dust in the garage, while he could find something new in a Bird or a Coltrane piece he’d heard a thousand times before: It was about what was inside. “I think it does, Kev.” Scratching an itch where the elastic of his sweatpants dug into his belly, Ben realized he was barely dressed and probably looking like the cat’s breakfast. “Why don’t we go out and get something to eat? Can you wait while I grab a quick shower?”
***** His stomach now full of eggs, greasy chili, and lots and lots of decent coffee, Ben leaned his head back against the corner of the cab of Kevin’s truck. Periodically, he could crack his eyes open and take in how perfectly gorgeous Kevin looked as he drove them back to Ben’s place. Last night’s whiskey chased with beer on an empty stomach had been a stupid idea, and Ben didn’t get any extra credit for knowing it at the time. He’d still gone ahead and done it,
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realizing it was no more than a short-term fix, at best. But some dark part of him had enjoyed thinking it was some kind of cosmic link with his idol. Charlie Parker. Married four times, dead from alcohol and drugs at thirty-four. Poor Bird. Ben’s crappy little problems seemed small indeed next to CP’s. A god had walked among men, unrecognized. Ben had needed the time and distance that breakfast had taken and suggested they go to his favorite weekend morning hangout, the Kountry Kafe. Cutesy name and decorating aside, the food was artery-clogging, kick-ass good. And, best of all, the staff knew how to keep the coffee hot and the conversation minimal. After having told himself at least a hundred times that Kevin wasn’t for him, it took Ben’s internal script a little time to adjust. Talk had ranged from how long they had each lived in their respective places to favorite TV shows and books. Used to being dogged by his musician friends for his low-brow taste in entertainment, Ben was childishly pleased to find a kindred soul in junk-TV-lover Kevin. “We’re here.” Just as the lack of movement was sinking into Ben’s subconscious, a hand placed high on his thigh got his complete attention. “Mind if I come in?” “No, not at all. I’d like that.” Walking from the parking garage to his door, Ben led the way, luxuriating in the knowledge that Kevin’s eyes were fixated squarely on his ass. A tingling warmth spread across his lower back, circling around to his groin, where his cock grew steadily happier. As usual, Ben had forgone underwear, enjoying the feel of the lightly broken-in cloth rubbing against his skin. Ben held the door while Kevin entered, leaning back against it as soon as he’d closed it behind them. To his surprise, Kevin passed on through to the kitchen, returning with the white bag he’d brought with him earlier in one hand. “Do you have a bedroom?” Kevin stood his ground while Ben approached, meeting him at the nexus of living room, kitchen, and hallway. Ben held out his hand, and Kevin stared at it
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uncomprehendingly for a moment. Until he slid his hand into Ben’s, lacing their fingers together, and Ben felt the jolt straight to his groin. Looking at their hands, Ben was struck by the intimacy it implied. And knowing the courage it took for Kevin to take a step such as that touched him deeply. He raised their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Kevin’s hand. Only their second kiss, and so far short of where Ben wanted to take them. Kevin’s breath caught, and Ben met his gaze. When he saw Kevin’s tongue flick briefly over his lips, unconsciously wetting them, Ben knew it was going to be okay and led the way to his bedroom. “I want to kiss you, Kev.” Kevin was so beautiful. Such a perfect physical specimen. But it was his inner strength that touched Ben and humbled him. What it must have taken for Kevin to go from where he’d been, living in total denial, to be able to face down his inner demons and reach out for what he needed. It had been years since Ben had had to make that call, but he remembered the stark terror it evoked like it was yesterday. Nodding, Kevin raised a hand to Ben’s face, and Ben saw him try to hide the tremor that ran through it. But he loved to be touched, had always been a tactile person, and when Kevin’s hand slipped into his hair, resting warm and close against his scalp, Ben got goosebumps; his nipples rasped against his shirt, and his dick got harder. Unable to hold back any more, Ben hauled Kevin in closer and took control of the kiss. It was so fucking good to finally kiss him. A real kiss with lips and teeth and tongues. And have Kevin kiss him back. Ben could tell the moment it stopped being weird for him and Kev began kissing him back in earnest. Just enough taller that it made everything fit just right, Kevin held on tight, tilted his head more to get a better angle, ground his cock against Ben’s.
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As good as it felt, Ben broke off the kiss first. “Slow down; you’re killing me. I’ll never last at this rate.” Smiling, he gulped for air, trying to catch his breath and reassure Kev at the same time. “’Kay. Tell the newbie what to do here.” Ben slapped one hand over his heart. “You have no idea ... You just have no idea what that does to me. Don’t you know that’s every queer boy’s fantasy?” He laughed at himself, but only a little. It really was a huge turn-on. “Mmm. Let’s have you take off those clothes, first. Here, let me help.” Just like his fantasy of -- was it really only a few hours ago? It felt like days -- Ben used both hands to unbutton Kevin’s jeans before slipping his hands inside. He loved watching Kevin’s face. He could tell Kev was still a bit weirded out about it all. It wasn’t totally natural for him yet. But that was okay. That would only make it that much hotter for them both. Sliding his hands around back, Ben savored the feel of Kevin’s well-toned, muscular ass. God, he was such a handful. Squatting down in front, Ben eased the material down, his breath catching as Kevin’s gorgeous cock and ass were gradually revealed. Lean yet curvy, Kev’s legs were totally masculine, hairy. Ben could have wept, they were so beautiful. He wordlessly tapped one leg, and Kevin lifted it for Ben to pull off the shoe, sock, and first pant leg. Repeating the process on the other side, Kevin now stood, naked from the waist down. Sitting back on his heels, Ben paused a moment to admire. Kevin’s legs were every bit as beautiful as he’d imagined and already Ben could imagine them locked around his waist as he eased into the tight ass they supported. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Ben smiled up at Kev in reassurance. “Awesome.” Hands floating as though unsure of what to do, Ben offered Kevin direction. “Put your hands anywhere you like. On me, on yourself; there’s no wrong way to do this.” While not exactly worried, Kevin’s expression relaxed a bit. His cock jutted out in aroused interest, and it was Ben’s pleasure to reward that interest. Taking two handfuls of
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Kevin’s ass as an anchor, Ben opened his mouth and took as much of Kevin’s cock into it as he could fit. Slowly at first, he worked him down his throat, backed off, then did it again. Almost immediately, Kevin’s hips began to rock in rhythm with Ben’s movements, and Ben worried about moving too fast. He loved to suck cock and would normally be the last one to deny himself the pleasure of taking Kevin’s load, but that wasn’t the plan. His goal was to have Kevin mindless with wanting, and a quick b.j. wouldn’t do that, so he backed off. Kevin’s groan of protest had Ben smiling again. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m going to take good care of you. But we both have too many clothes on.” Eyes already beginning to glaze a bit, Kevin’s hands went to the edge of his shirt and yanked it off over his head with jerky movements, not bothering to unbutton it. Standing, Ben began to unbutton his own shirt, allowing Kevin to go to work on his pants. It was too bad Ben couldn’t slow them both down more, because he wanted to enjoy this moment. A first time with a new lover was always special -- filled with anticipation and its own built-in excitement. But with Kevin, it was all that times ten. He was so fucking hot and Ben wanted him so much. To know that Kevin was overcoming years of brainwashing to be able to give in to his desires was incredibly moving to Ben. And it didn’t hurt that the man was mushroom-cloud-atomic hot. Shirt off now and pants following quickly, Ben retrieved the paper bag Kevin had brought, curiosity combining with the need to slow the pace down. His curiosity doubled when he saw Kevin stiffen a little at the same time his cock twitched. Ah. God love him, the little darling had thought to bring condoms. And lube. Ben’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wouldn’t have thought Kevin would be bold enough, and Ben’s opinion of the man went that much higher. He’d shown foresight and
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either optimism or hopefulness; Ben couldn’t decide which. Not that it mattered, because they were going to use both of the supplies Kevin had so thoughtfully supplied. “Oh, excellent, Kevin. Good job. Nicely done.” Ben took Kevin in hand and resumed stroking him. He’d had a minute to cool down. Now time to stoke the fires again. “You sound like Alex Trebek.” A touch out of breath, sounding just a tiny bit strangled, Ben loved that Kevin could still make a joke. It was always a plus to be able to laugh in bed. Not that they’d even made it to the bed yet. Speaking of ... “No, not Jeopardy! More like, Who Wants To Feel Like a
Millionaire? Come on, follow me.” Sitting down on the bed, Ben took a condom out of its wrapper. “Come a little closer.” Wonderfully obedient, Kevin stepped between Ben’s knees and allowed him to roll the condom onto Kevin’s painfully engorged cock. Ben couldn’t resist caressing it with his mouth again, although the latex taste was light-years away from Kevin’s natural one. After swallowing Kevin a few more times, Ben replaced his mouth with his hand, placing kisses and small bites along Kevin’s belly and out toward his hips. Thrusting shallowly into Ben’s hand now, Kevin felt near the edge to him. Perfect. “Ready to step up to the big leagues, Kev, and fuck your first ass?”
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Chapter Nine
Whoa. Things were getting real in a hurry, and Ben was waiting for an answer. Kevin looked down into Ben’s eyes, made to appear larger by the glasses he wore. He couldn’t think with Ben’s hand on him like it was. “Going too fast for you? It’s okay if you’re not ready. We can do other things.” It was the kindness in Ben’s voice that did him in. And the understanding. It really would be okay with Ben. Putting his hands on Ben’s shoulders, Kevin gave a shove, tumbling Ben onto his back and followed him down onto the bed. A smile played about Ben’s lips as Kevin leaned down to kiss him. But Ben’s hand had found Kevin’s cock again already, and Kevin could only follow it, thrusting futilely against it, never quite getting enough friction to send him over. The kissing was nice. Kevin liked to kiss. There was something so intimate about it. About tasting and being so close you couldn’t help but be surrounded by another’s scent. He’d never thought that kissing another guy could be so ... sexy. No second-guessing: Does she want me to touch her breast? Is it too soon to pet her pussy? Another guy would understand that grabbing his dick was just a sign of friendly interest and not a --
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Oh, fuck, that felt good. Ben had his cock in one hand, his balls in the other, and he was working them both like a master. Kevin moaned and Ben broke off the kiss. Seconds later, “Here.” Ben began stroking him again, this time with hands squirted liberally with the lube. Cold at first, just a few more seconds and everything was warm. One more brief kiss and Ben was sliding out from under him. “Hold out your hand, Kev.” More cool gel, this time across his fingers. “Rub it on you; rub it on me. Then do what men do best.” Ben gave him a smart-ass grin, a come-on-I-dareyou-you-little-pussy grin, then turned around and got up on all fours. Looking down at his hand as though it were a foreign appendage, Kevin realized it was do-or-die time. This was where the rubber met the road, and he had a decision to make. To do the safe thing, the expected thing, and live a life of quiet desperation? Or face his fears, take a chance, and live life the way it was meant to be lived? Looked at like that, there really was no deciding. It could only be one way. Kevin took the clear gel, now warmed to nearly liquid, and began massaging it into Ben’s back hole, at first gingerly, but with growing confidence. Kevin’s chest puffed with pride when Ben began to squirm and moan appreciatively. Feeling more assured now, it seemed natural to take his cock in hand, place it against Ben’s anus, and begin pushing. The initial resistance made him cautious. “Is this okay? Are you all right?” A vigorous nod of Ben’s head caused the rest of his body to move accordingly and worked Kevin in a fraction of an inch more. “Yeah. Come on.” Kevin pushed a little harder, and suddenly he was past the first ring of muscle and easing the rest of the way in until he was in up to the balls. God, it was good. Tight and hot; truthfully, not all that different. Fucking A -- who knew?
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Taking hold of Ben’s hips, Kevin eased slowly out, and Ben moaned again. When he had pulled nearly all the way out, Kevin stopped for a moment. Just paused to assess -- take stock. Then he began forcing his way back in. All the way in, then he pulled out again, not quite as slowly this time. Gradually, Kevin allowed himself to speed up when he realized Ben was grunting in satisfaction and pushing back on his cock as Kevin was pushing forward. And that was all the learning there was to it. Fucking was fucking, and nature took over until they were both moaning and thrusting and grunting in pleasure. “Yeah, oh, fuck yeah.” Kevin wanted to call out, to tell Ben how incredibly fucking amazing it felt, how good it was, but all his brain cells were occupied elsewhere. He needed his hands to hang on, his knees for balance, and his cock ... his cock was in pure fucking heaven. Kevin thrust harder, a little faster, and the viselike grip of Ben’s ass on his dick clamped down harder, and Kevin exploded. Coming and coming, tremors shook his body until he slumped forward, his arms and body bracketing Ben’s as he panted and shook in the aftermath of perfect pleasure.
***** After a matter-of-fact trip to the bathroom to clean up, they’d both crawled under the blankets and dozed for a while. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but thinking about it, reflecting on his first time fucking another man, Kevin felt surprisingly ... the same. He didn’t feel all that different. Somehow he’d imagined he’d feel changed. Like a pervert, or something. Asleep, his hands pressed together under his cheek, Ben lay next to him, looking for all the world like a kid. He looked peaceful. Kevin’s gaze roamed over Ben’s face, relaxed in sleep like he’d never seen it before. Using two fingers, Kevin straightened a rogue bit of Ben’s hair, sticking out at a random angle, and a jab of tenderness caught him low in his gut. How could he possibly have known? Why had no one ever told him? How was it possible to feel such warmth, such overwhelming tenderness and -- Kevin searched for the word.
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Thinking back, Kevin recognized something important he had witnessed at work but hadn’t appreciated the meaning of until now. He had been in yet another of the endless number of EcoDyne meetings, and things hadn’t been going well. Tempers were fraying and personalities were beginning to turn nasty. Until Ben subtly took control. He had made a decision when no one else was willing to, farmed out the requisite tasks, and sent the members of the group their various ways. All without raising his voice or losing his temper. Just stepped in and quietly took the reins. Like he’d done here today. Ben had orchestrated the morning like an old maestro, naturally and quietly. Admiration at the effortless leadership style he’d witnessed filled Kevin. He wondered if Ben even realized it about himself. Somehow, Kevin didn’t think so. Most leaders Kevin had known had identifiable egos -- some so large they required additional seating. Where was Ben’s ego? There was a mystery there, but Kevin was too sleepy to solve it. Tucking an arm under the pillow his own head rested on, he closed his eyes.
***** When Kevin woke, he experienced a momentary disorientation until he recalled where he was. And why. Sleeping on beside him, Ben now lay on his back, one hand resting across his abdomen, his mouth slightly open. Running a finger down the arm closest to him, Kevin couldn’t help but compare. Bigger. More muscle. Hairier. This last brought a chuff of humor. He let his mind wander, just taking in the changes. He had some mental adjusting to do, that was for sure. After lying quietly a while, the need to pee drove him from the bed. Kevin took care of his business, then, not feeling particularly sleepy, decided to indulge his curiosity about the rest of Ben’s place. So far he’d seen the entryway, the empty living room, and the kitchen. Ben’s place looked strange. Subtly off. Things were too obviously in their customary places for the just-moved-in look. Enough dust had accumulated in some areas that Kevin
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could tell this was normal. The bedroom was spare. But besides the bed there were a chair, a dresser, and a couple of pictures on the wall -- a photo of what must be another jazz musician, this one unidentified, and a landscape. Surprisingly pastoral, it looked to be a typical slice-of-life scene from somewhere in grow country. The room next door must be where Ben spent most of his time. It was set up as a home office, with two computers, a big flat-screen monitor nearly as big as Kevin’s TV at home, and an assortment of other devices hooked in that Kevin couldn’t begin to identify. Shit. It looked like the communications center from a Tom Clancy novel. Sitting down in front of the blank screen of the larger of the two, Kevin took in the expensive equipment and wondered, letting the black office chair rotate slowly on its base. “It’s a bit much.” He hadn’t heard Ben coming down the hall or approaching from behind. He was naked. Kevin tried not to stare. Shit, would he ever get used to this? “No, it’s great. I think. I have no idea what most of this stuff does. What do you do with it?” “The one you’re sitting in front of is the main unit. I do most of my stuff there. All the usual. Most of it’s just overkill, though. But I see something new come out and I have to have it. I have no self-control when it comes to gadgets. The other one is mostly for music. I collect all kinds of stuff. Mostly old jazz tunes -- try to get them into digital format.” “Nice.” “Thanks.” “So.” He was trying not to stare -- really -- but the more he tried not to look, the more what Ben didn’t make any attempt to hide drew his eye. Jeez. Don’t be such a freak. He
knows you’re a newbie, but do you have to prove it by gawking? “So where’s the rest of your furniture?” He blurted out the first thing that came into his head. Luckily, Ben didn’t seem to notice the rudeness of the question. Or maybe he did and he was just being polite.
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“Never got around to getting it, I guess. When I moved out here I didn’t bring a lot with me. I didn’t have much of a bankroll, so I bought just what I needed first. Later, there never seemed to be any pressing need. Always something else to spend the money on.” Ben tilted his head to the side a bit, as though considering. “Does it bother you?” “No, it’s just -- Dude, it’s a little odd. Don’t you think?” “I’ll work on it.” The tension in the room went from zero to sixty in the space of a few seconds. Or could it have been building all along and Kevin hadn’t noticed? He definitely needed to hone his skills; that was for sure. The chemistry kept blindsiding him. A few minutes ago, he’d been wandering idly through Ben’s place, feeling relaxed and satisfied. But just one look -- that look -- from Ben, and thoughts were scattering from his head as fast as the blood was rushing to his cock. “So, do you get back often? You’ve still got family in ... Michigan?” “Wisconsin. Fond du Lac. I don’t go back. And I don’t want to talk about Wisconsin right now.” “No?” It was getting harder to breathe. Short, shallow breaths were the best Kevin could do. The attraction was magnetic. Powerful. “No.” Without making any overt move, Ben managed to communicate his interest. Unable to fight it any more, Kevin allowed his gaze to drop and watch the awakening taking place in Ben’s cock. Fucking amazing. Awesome. It began to lengthen and slowly fill. Gradually rising to fully erect. For him. And still Ben made no move. Just stood a short distance away, watching Kevin. When Ben’s gaze dropped, Kevin’s followed. There he was, stroking himself through his boxerbriefs, and he hadn’t even been aware. Jesus. How did something like that happen? “Ben?”
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“Yeah, babe?” He wanted it. Kevin’s mouth went dry at the same moment he could already feel it in his hands. What would it feel like ...? He couldn’t begin to imagine. His mind didn’t stretch that far. But he’d thought about it. It must feel good or so many people wouldn’t be doing it. Right? Ben had enjoyed it. He’d groaned and shuddered and thrust back on Kevin’s cock, again and again. Jesus, Ben must know what he was thinking. He must be able to read it on his face. And he must want it, too. The erection never lied. His gaze darted up to Ben’s face. Ben looked ... intent. Hungry. “Can we --?” “What do you want to do, Kev?”
Say it, you idiot. Here’s your chance. Say it. “I want to -- I want you to fuck me.” His voice gave out midway, so that the last few words were more mouthed than actually spoken. But he’d done it. He’d laid it out there. Now what would Ben do? The flare in Ben’s eyes told him what he needed to know. Slowly, Ben nodded, unfolding his arms as he did and pushing away from the doorway. “Let’s go back here, then. It’ll be more comfortable.” Now it was Ben’s turn to push Kevin backward onto the bed. After stripping off Kevin’s underwear, Ben licked the drops of pre-cum that were already gathering on Kevin’s cock. God, it was so good, the way Ben handled him. So assured in the way he sucked him like he enjoyed it, touched his cock like he wanted to and not because he was doing Kevin a favor. Retrieving the lube from the nightstand attached to the headboard, Ben squeezed some out onto one hand, using his thumb to rub it on his fingers for several seconds. Before he applied it, he took Kevin’s cock in hand once more, caressing the shaft while he sucked and licked the head. “You taste fantastic. You don’t, by chance, drink a lot of pineapple juice, do you?”
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“Huh? Pineapple? Yeah, I do. Why?” Ben began to massage the gel around his back hole; Kevin tried not to flinch. But it was odd. Going against a lifetime’s training. “Because you taste sweet. I thought you might.” Working it around, Ben slid one slippery finger against the opening and began working it in. Even as Kevin tried to squirm away, a wave of shameful lust rolled over him because the finger had begun moving inside him and it felt good. Not just good -- incredible. Sliding in and out easily now, the finger slowly fucked his anus, and Kevin groaned in pleasure, even as a flush of heat warmed his face. Too soon, the finger was gone, but Kevin couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes to see where Ben had gone. Maybe if he didn’t look ... The crackle of plastic being torn and the squirt of the gel tube let him picture in his mind what Ben was doing. And then the feeling of a foreign intruder nudging at his hole was back. But so was Ben’s hand on his cock. “Just relax. Nothing will hurt, I promise. If it hurts, it’s not being done right.” Ben’s mouth crushed down on Kevin’s, his tongue thrusting eagerly inside for a moment before he pulled away. “You’re going to fucking love this, I guarantee. I guarantee it, Kev.” “Shouldn’t I get up?” “No, this is good. This is better, actually. Besides, I want to see your face. I need to watch your reaction.” On his back? He’d never heard of that. Could everything reach? Kevin licked his lips a bit, still tasting Ben there. Holy shit, this was it. The hand on his cock started to work in a slow, sensuous rhythm as Ben’s cock began to nudge insistently at Kevin’s ass. Pushing slowly, but steadily, Kevin felt the muscle begin to give way until, gradually, Ben began to fill him up. Slowly, slowly, never stopping, Ben eased his way inside until Kevin could feel the heat of Ben’s belly against the backs of his thighs.
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Once in, he didn’t move. Just held his ground while Kevin’s mind and body struggled to adjust. Fuck! He felt vulnerable. Full. Possessed. It felt ... good. Better than good. “Kev, you okay?” Ben sounded terse. Maybe just out of breath. Bite his lip and nod was the best Kevin could do. “Good. That’s good.” More breathing. “Kevin, you’re killing me. You are so amazingly hot.” This last was accompanied by a small thrust of Ben’s hips, sending a ripple of pleasure up Kevin’s spine. And then Ben began to move. Pulling out slowly, the intense sensations wrung a groan from him. Odd, but good. Ben drove carefully inward, leaning against the backs of Kevin’s legs, which he held with his upper arms. The feeling of pleasurable fullness returned. It made his head spin, the idea of someone else being inside him, but Kevin couldn’t deny the incredible sensations of Ben’s cock moving in him. In the end, Kevin could only surrender to the feelings. Ben pumped Kevin’s cock while he stroked in and out of Kevin’s ass until Kevin became a creature of pure sensation. He could only groan and bask in the glory of being pleasured more intensely than he could ever remember in his life. “Fuck, yeah. Kevin, oh, yeah ...” Crooning and swearing, Ben controlled Kevin’s world until Ben came in short, jerky spasms. The pulsing in his ass combined with the hand squeezing his cock, and Kevin came, shooting his load up onto his belly in shuddering spasms of his own.
***** “I could get used to that.” “Yeah?” Since Kevin had just been thinking something similar, it was a little spooky to hear Ben echo his thoughts. “Oh, yeah. What about you? How was your first time taking?” Like usual, Ben’s hair was going off in twenty different directions. Kevin had always figured it was a fashion statement, but maybe not.
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“Pretty fucking incredible. I just had no idea. No idea.” Kevin couldn’t help shaking his head a little. “Yeah, I wonder sometimes.” It was afternoon and they had now spent the better part of the day in bed. They’d have to get up and go do something eventually. Wouldn’t they? “Huh? Wonder about what?” “You know, the fear. The rabid protests.” When Ben had his glasses off, Kevin could see the tiny flecks of blue in Ben’s hazel eyes. “I mean, it’s not like there’s anything new under the sun. What are people so worried about?” “I don’t know, man. I don’t know.”
Six months later
“Hey, c’mere.” Kevin grabbed his hand and pulled Ben into the bathroom. The door was hardly shut when Kevin pulled him into his arms and laid an open-mouthed, full-body-press kiss on him. He tasted so good, felt so freaking good, Ben only put up a token fight, kissing him back. When Kevin began fumbling for the button on Ben’s pants, Ben had to put a stop to it, though. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t do that. Your family is ten feet away.” “I know. That’s what makes it so hot. They’re out there grilling the meat, and I’m in here about to swallow it.” His grin was unrepentant and full of trouble. “You are such a child sometimes.” Ben tried for his best Voice of Authority, but his heart wasn’t in it. And Kevin knew it. He had the button of Ben’s pants undone and his dick out in about ten seconds. Another five and Kevin was down on his knees, taking Ben into his mouth. Since they’d been together, Kevin had been a diligent student, a real teacher’s pet, and had grown into a first-rate cocksucker. He squeezed lightly on Ben’s balls just before he deep-throated him, earning a heartfelt groan from Ben.
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Kevin pulled off instantly. “Sssh. You can’t make noise. No one can know what we’re doing.” He’d also become a skilled game-player with a taste for discovery fantasies. But two could play at that game. “You know I’ve only got about two minutes worth of self-control, so you’d better see just how fast you can make me come, then.” Ben had broken out in a cold sweat the first time Kevin had brought him over for a Beltrán Sunday dinner. Memories of his own family’s rejection still haunted him, but the Beltráns were healing him. They had been nothing but loving and accepting, both of their son and his gay lover. Prepared for anything from subtle barbs to outright rejection, their boisterous, generous, loving acceptance had floored him. Even now, they could bring him close to tears with a well-placed hug or arm around the shoulders. Kevin’s abuelo was Ben’s personal favorite, and he had his own way of dealing with it. Since he spoke little English and Ben’s Spanish could only euphemistically be called “coming along,” Abuelo would nudge Ben’s arm, point out a nubile young girl cousin, and waggle his eyebrows. “¿Tán bonita, eh?” “Sí, abuelo. Tán bonita. You bet.” Kevin worked his cock enthusiastically, and Ben could feel the characteristic tingling in his balls. Love, acceptance, and a hot Latino lover. Not bad for punk from Fond du Lac with bad hair. Not bad at all.
Stephanie Vaughan While always naturally artistic, Stephanie Vaughan did not pursue writing until she was challenged by a friend who thought herself ‘too sarcastic and cynical to be a romance heroine.’ Stephanie decided to prove her wrong. The floodgates opened and she found herself bombarded by characters demanding their stories be written. A native southern Californian, Stephanie lists her influences as The Marx Brothers, Suzanne Brockmann, Woody Allen, Linda Howard, Dennis Miller, Angela Knight and Ella Fitzgerald. Stephanie still resides in southern California, where she lives with her husband and son, and indulges her passion for great coffee, “nature’s perfect food.” Stephanie loves to hear from her fans. You can find her on the web at www.stephanievaughan.com, and email her at
[email protected].
***** Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of
Eclipse of the Heart by Emily Veinglory Available Now from Loose Id
Eclipse of the Heart Lan was acutely conscious of being scrutinized, though it was a discreet observation. Mason's sister, Maeve, bantered with Mason about his clothing, habitually black and incongruously stark in this setting. Lan knew that his own more plain and pale-colored clothing must set him in obvious contrast to Mason's bold, macho dress. The Pattersons were clearly a naturally cheerful and boisterous family, but they were toning it down for Lan's benefit. Mason's mother brought in a tray with tea things and balanced it on the piles of magazines, rather than moving them. “So, Lan says you're looking at a job at the university. I hope you get it; we'd love to have our boy closer to home.” She looked to her husband, who smiled amicably in reply. Lan looked up from his inspection of the speckled beige carpet. “I hope it works out that way, too, Mrs. Patterson.” The children burst back into the house with some confused tale about something the rooster had done. As if it were a post-modern play whose plot he could not entirely discern, Lan watched the family behaving according to their long-accustomed habits. Discreet frowns from Mason stopped them from asking Lan too many questions, and Lan contributed little to the discussion, though he was cautiously polite and co-operative. When it became dark, they watched the news, then turned off the television. Lan suddenly had trouble keeping his eyes open and actually almost nodded off. He brought his head up with a jerk. “Mercy, you look worn out,” Mrs. Patterson exclaimed. “We should turn in,” Mason said with well-disguised reluctance. “You stay and talk to your folks, Mason,” Lan said, rising. “Just show me where I can put my head down.”
Emily Veinglory
Mason led him upstairs. “The guest room,” he said of the small room under the eaves. “My old room downstairs is full of boxes and things now; you couldn't get in with a crow bar.” He pointed out the bathroom and folded down the blankets. “Are you sure?” he queried, clearly keen to get back to the conversation about the family's latest breeding lines in Jersey cows. “Go ahead,” Lan urged. “I'll be fine.” Once Mason left, Lan put on his old boxers and turned off the light, lying back on the crisply washed linen. By some freak of construction, he could hear every word that was said downstairs, and the family seemed quite unaware of the fact. “He's nice,” Mrs. Patterson said. “I know you don't need our approval --” “But that doesn't mean I don't want it ...” Mason broke in, a smile in his voice. “The boy's a bit, well, shy,” Mr. Patterson said gruffly. “What're his folks like?” His tone clearly indicated he was expecting the worst. “He came up in foster care,” Mason replied. “Hmmm,” Mr. Patterson said, very much like his son. “Must've been hard.” “He's a nice boy,” Maeve said. “He's the same age as you sis, twenty-eight,” Mason said with amusement. Lan could hear the surprise in the silence that followed; people always thought he was younger than that. With an exasperated sigh, Lan burrowed down under the covers and drifted to sleep. He woke as Mason slipped in beside him, surprised that Mason's parents were okay with them sharing a bed. Something about the smell of the clean sheets and the warm familiar body relaxed some deep part of him. “Move over, sleepyhead,” Mason whispered. “Hmmm,” Lan said drowsily, “make me.”
Eclipse of the Heart
Mason chuckled as he slipped under the heavy blankets and crawled to straddle Lan. “Now, you are at my mercy.” Lan smiled. Mason went to bed blithely naked even in his parents' house. He felt Mason's thighs on either side of his hips, and Mason's massive body crouched over him in the absolute darkness. He ran his hands along those corded thighs, feeling the definition of the muscles. The raw beauty of Mason's body always made his heart thump hard in his chest -- it was like riding a tiger, a feeling of exhilaration and mastery. “Is that so?” he said as he reached his right hand forward to cup Mason's balls, massaging them gently with his palm. Still on his back, he wriggled down the bed to take Mason's cock between his lips, using the flat of his tongue to massage its uncircumcised hood. Mason moaned and leaned forward gently, balanced between desire and caution. Lan urged him on, resting his forearms over Mason's thighs and grasping Mason's taut buttocks. Mason's cock slid slowly into Lan's mouth. Mason's whole body quivered as Lan moved his head slowly back and forth, taking in a little more each time. He worked his lips firmly, intent on driving Mason wild. “Oh, God,” Mason muttered. He pulled back and slid down so they were face-to-face again. “Slow down,” he said, “or it'll all be over pretty quick.” Lan strained upwards and Mason kissed him firmly, tongue probing. He could feel Mason's erection sliding against his thigh. “You know, there're only two problems here,” Mason whispered. “And those would be?” Lan replied with his best impersonation of polite but mild interest. “Well, one is that we are both about to fall off the bottom of this bed ... and the other is that you're still wearing those damn boxers.”
Emily Veinglory
Mason grabbed Lan by the waist and scooted him back up the bed. The blanket slid off onto the floor, but neither of them paid it any heed. Mason grabbed the elastic waist of Lan's shorts and pulled them all the way off. “Right,” Mason said with satisfaction. “Where were we?” “How about here?” Lan reached out and pulled Mason forward. He reached up to grip the back of Mason's head, and spread his legs to clasp Mason's hips firmly. “There?” “Oh, yes,” Lan said. “Right there.” Mason's cock was slick and hard. Lan felt him reach down to guide it forward; then there was that familiar moment of tension. He felt Mason pressing, seeking. A small almostpain, a balance, and then ... Lan moaned as Mason slid in, just the head of his penis. Mason stopped, poised motionless. “Mason, if you don't nail me right now, I am going to kill you,” Lan said.
***** What people are saying about
Eclipse of the Heart Ms. Veinglory is a talented writer who depicts same sex relationships in an extremely fascinating manner. Once I started reading I could not put the book down. Eclipse of the Heart is a great story that will remain on my keeper shelf for some time to come. -- Susan White, Just Erotic Romance Reviews This book isn’t about the perfect people with a perfect ending. It is about a couple with regular flaws that everyone can relate with. In the end, that is what love is all about. This story is realistic with a werewolf twist! -- Ann Lee, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
Eclipse of the Heart
I enjoyed this book, even though is a big departure from my usual preferred style. It reminded me of the Anita Blake series by Laurell K. Hamilton, with their look at the fuzzy underbelly of the wereworld, along with the flashes of humor you wouldn’t expect from works this dark…Veinglory scores with this richly written, erotic e-book chronicling Lan’s journey to learn who he is and the heartbreaking costs you must sometimes pay to get there. Lan learns that sometimes the unexpected friends you make can be the family you’ve never had. -- Michelle, Fallen Angel Reviews As a heterosexual, I found this book informative as it gave an intriguing insight of love between two men. I loved how the chemistry flowed between Mason and Lan. This is clearly a romantic tale of love, sexuality and the ability to trust. -- Suz, Coffee Time Romance
