Watch and Learn

by K. C. Wells

  BLURB

  Neither Zac nor Chris want a relationship.

  It sort of sneaks up on them.

  And then the lines become blurred.

  When Chris approaches twenty-two-year old Zac in a bar, he’s floored by Zac’s announcement.

  “I’m twenty-two. No boyfriend. No partner. And seriously considering taking a vow of celibacy.”

  The more Zac shares, the more Chris feels he can help Zac. And after one visit to a club, Chris knows what turns him on.

  Zac likes to watch.

  Lucky for Zac that Chris can help him with that.

  In fact, Chris can blow Zac’s mind.

  When forty-two-year-old Chris tells Zac of his intentions, Zac is intrigued.

  “I don’t want to know what makes your engine tick—I wanna know what makes it purr. I wanna watch you, learn what your boundaries are, how far I can push them.”

  And push them, he does. Each new experience is hotter than the last. Kinkier too.

  But somewhere along with the way, Zac stops wanting to be ‘f***-buddies who don’t f***.’

  He wants more.

  But Chris doesn’t want that – does he?

  They’re not in a relationship, right?

  Yeah, right.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are 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.

  Watch and Learn

  Copyright © 2020 by K.C. Wells

  Cover Art by Meredith Russell

  Photo by Wander Aguiar

  This story was originally published as part of the Come Play anthology.

  It has since been expanded from 14,000 to 28,000 words.

  Cover content is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  The trademarked products mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners and are recognized as such.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Table of contents

  “Fucking is a dying art.”

  “Taking a dick is not the only way to have a good time.”

  “Is that even gonna fit?”

  “Are they paddling in what I think they’re paddling in?”

  “Sweet Jesus, two of them?

  “For me? You shouldn’t have.”

  “So what’s changed?”

  “You need to talk.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “My head is about to explode.”

  “For me? You shouldn’t have.” – Take Two

  About the Author

  Titles by K.C. Wells

  “Fucking is a dying art.”

  “Say, if you really wanna clean my bar top with your tongue, I can go with that.”

  That brought Chris Levinson down to earth with not just a bump, but a resounding smack. He gave the bartender a ‘What the fuck?’ glance, which apparently cut no ice with Bill, as his badge proclaimed.

  Bill shrugged. “Well, you’ve been drooling over that guy for the last half hour. I figured you might as well do something useful with your tongue.” His eyes sparkled. “Or… you could go over there and just talk to the guy. I hear that approach works pretty well too.”

  “You obviously took up bar-tending because you failed as a comedian, right?” Chris gestured to his empty glass. “I’ll have another. And get him another of whatever he’s having,” he added, pointing to the young man at the far end of the bar.

  Bill quirked his eyebrows. “Finally gonna make a move, huh?”

  Chris could’ve told Bill he had it all wrong, but decided in the end he wasn’t worth the breath. He waited until Bill placed the full glass in front of the young man before raising his own.

  The guy stared at him, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

  Chris took that as his cue to move. He slid off his bar stool, picked up his glass, and walked unhurriedly to the far end of the bar, where the young man was watching his approach cautiously. When Chris reached him, he perched on the empty stool beside him and put down his glass. He said nothing.

  The younger man looked him up and down, then tilted his head to one side. “Do I know you?” Pale brown eyes focused on him, that frown still evident.

  “No, but after seeing you in that same damn spot every Friday night for the past month, with that same expression, I couldn’t take anymore. I had to find a way to talk to you.” Chris didn’t believe in beating around the bush. He was too long in the tooth to be indulging in small talk.

  Mr. Brown Eyes lifted his eyebrows. “What expression would that be?”

  Chris went for the jugular. “The one that says you’re not happy.”

  He gave a blink, then recovered, smirking. “And who are you, the Happiness Fairy? You gonna sprinkle some fairy dust and take all my troubles away?”

  “I’m the guy who’s gonna sit next to you and listen while you tell me what’s on your mind. Because something sure is.” Chris’s gaze flickered around the rest of the bar, where all types of men indulged in drinking, chatting, flirting or in some cases, making out. Of course, no one batted an eyelid at the latter.

  This was New York City, for God’s sake.

  “Maybe I’m just having a bad day,” the young man suggested.

  Chris shook his head. “It’s not just today, though. I told you, I’ve watched you for the past four Fridays. You sit there, you drink. Occasionally you dance. Sometimes, you flirt. And at the end of the night, you leave with a guy.”

  The man stiffened. “Something wrong with that?”

  “Fuck no. At least half the guys in this bar are here to hook up with someone. Me included. Not a thing wrong with that. What gets to me about you is that you’re clearly looking for something and you can’t seem to find it.” He smiled. “Now, we could go on like this all night, back and forth, or you could tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine, we’ll have a drink, and we’ll talk.”

  Chris couldn’t miss the amusement dancing briefly in those pretty eyes. “Talk. You just wanna… talk.”

  “It’s a start,” Chris said with a shrug. He took a drink of his beer.

  After a moment, the guy picked up his glass and took a drink. When he put it down, he met Chris’s gaze. “What the hell. My name’s Zac. Zac Tanner.”

  Chris smiled. “That’s better. I’m Chris Levinson. I’m forty-two. I’m getting it out there now, because I know you’re gonna ask at some point.”

  Zac arched his eyebrows. “You sure don’t look forty-two. I’d have said thirty-five, tops.”

  “I’m gonna take that as a compliment. Okay, back to my bio. No boyfriends. No partners. Not interested in that. Been there, done that. Plenty of guys out there, just looking for a good time.”

  Zac expelled a long breath, and to Chris’s mind, it was a release of tension. He leaned against the bar, his spine less rigid. “I’m twenty-two. No boyfriend. No partner.” He paused to take a drink. “And seriously considering taking a vow of celibacy.”

  Okay, Chris hadn’t expected that. Zac’s age had surprised him too. Chris had thought him closer to his mid-twenties. He was a good-looking guy, with a tangle of dirty blond curls on top, short at the sides. Definitely no stranger to a gym, judging by those shoulders.

  Chris loved it when a guy worked out.

  He chuckled. “At twenty-two? Wow.” Then he regretted his reaction. Judging by Zac’s expres
sion, he was deadly serious. Chris cleared his throat. “Okay. That’s not something I usually hear from a guy your age, so I’m guessing there’s a story behind it. Well, why don’t you tell me?”

  Zac regarded him steadily. “What it all boils down to is… I’ve come to the conclusion that fucking is a dying art.” He took another drink.

  This time Chris met his words with a slow nod. “Okay. Not saying I agree with you on this one, but I’d sure be interested to know what brought you to this particular conclusion.” He downed a mouthful of beer before continuing. “Can I ask questions?”

  “Sure.”

  “How many guys have you been involved with?”

  Zac snorted. “Is that a euphemism for fucked? Hooked-up with? Screwed? Because involvement implies a degree of connection, and I’ve never had that.”

  Something inside Chris clenched at those matter-of-fact words. Before he could get another word out, however, Zac plunged ahead.

  “Sorry if that sounds harsh, but hey, I kinda got the impression we weren’t dicking around here. I thought you wanted to hear the truth, rather than some prettied-up version of it.”

  “You got that right.” Chris liked Zac already.

  Zac gave a satisfied nod. “That’s why I’m still here. It’s refreshing not to have to wade through a load of bullshit.”

  “And forgive me. I assumed you were gay. For all I know, you’re bi.”

  Zac shook his head. “Nah. You had me nailed right. I knew I was gay from the age of fourteen. But you asked a question, so let me answer it as fully as I can. I got laid for the first time when I was sixteen. He was a jock on the school football team, and I was his little experiment, only not a very successful one. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing.”

  “None of us do at that age,” Chris remarked. “The hormones take over and it’s mostly a case of ‘yay, there’s a hole.’ I take it the experience wasn’t good?”

  Zac winced. “Can we say, ‘where’s the lube’?”

  Aw fuck. Chris’s ass contracted just thinking about it. “Ouch.”

  “Let’s just say it was a while before I even thought about doing it again. And definitely not with him.”

  “So… next guy.”

  Zac nodded. “And I topped. It was… kinda meh. Mind you, we only had like ten minutes to do it. Can’t even remember why now. And then I sorta got into a pattern of crappy dates and even crappier sex.”

  “What was bad about them, specifically?”

  Zac huffed out a breath. “I guess I just haven’t been lucky with my choice of guys. I mean, it didn’t take me long to work out I was a bottom, and I really thought things would get better. But… no one ever seemed to take the time to… arouse me, y’know? It was like foreplay was a dirty word. And when there was some, it was never enough. And don’t get me started on their stamina. Three minutes, tops, and they were done. Meanwhile, I’m lying there with my knees at my ears, waiting for the fireworks to begin. Only, they didn’t. Hell, I didn’t even get my fuse lit.” His face fell. “Is it so much to ask? To want a guy to take his time with me, make it good for me? Is this it? Does no one know how to fuck anymore? Or is it just that we’ve all watched too much porn and think that’s how it should be? Only it never is, because porn is a fantasy.”

  Zac took a breath, and Chris was right there with him. But he wasn’t finished with the questions.

  “So, bit of a more personal question here,” Chris began, but Zac cut him off with a snicker.

  “I don’t think we could get more personal, do you?” He sipped his drink. “What do you wanna know?”

  “Forget about it not lasting very long. While they were fucking you, did you enjoy it? Did it feel good?” Chris had a hunch this was key to Zac’s dilemma.

  Zac stared into his glass. “Not really. Didn’t seem to matter if I was topping or bottoming—the result was the same. I kept waiting for that moment they tell you about? You know, when it starts to feel really good?”

  “And it didn’t come,” Chris guessed.

  Zac’s gaze met his. “No, it didn’t. Which kinda told me I need more practice.”

  It told Chris something else entirely.

  “These guys… Can I ask if they were your age? Older? Younger?”

  Zac pursed his lips, frowning. “Mostly my age.” Chris smiled, and Zac narrowed his gaze. “What?”

  Chris gave a casual shrug. “The remedy just seems obvious to me. Stop dicking around with boys, and find yourself a man.” Not that he thought Zac would fare any better if he was getting fucked by an older guy, but someone Chris’s age and experience would see what Zac apparently could not. And although Chris would love to be the one who had Zac writhing on his cock, barely holding on as Chris brought him again and again to the edge, his instincts told him that wasn’t what Zac needed.

  Then he became aware that Zac had gone quiet.

  Zac’s lips twitched. “And I suppose you’re the man who’ll put it all right, hmm? Ever thought there’s a reason why I haven’t been with a guy your age? Maybe because it would feel too much like fucking my dad, that’s why.”

  Chris chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not into incest either. But as for me being the one to put it all right…” He locked gazes with Zac, his heartbeat racing a little. “Try me.”

  Zac swallowed. “You’re… you’re serious.”

  Chris nodded, leaning in closer until their faces were inches apart. “Because having someone take their time with you is not too much to ask. Because foreplay can last all night long if you want it to. Because I don’t need to be inside you to make you come, and if you don’t think that’s possible, then baby, you really have been with the wrong guys.” He smiled. “I promise you. When you’re shooting your load into my mouth, the last person on your mind will be your dad.”

  Zac’s eyes widened, and his breathing quickened.

  “And for your information, fucking is not a dying art. You just hadn’t met someone who could fuck you the way you need to be fucked. Until now.” Except Chris already had a good idea that his idea of fucking might differ widely from Zac’s.

  You need a mentor. And Chris was determined to step into that role.

  Zac’s Adam’s apple bobbed hard. “And… what proof do you have? That you can do all this?”

  Chris didn’t hesitate. He cupped the back of Zac’s head and pulled him into a kiss, his tongue licking along the seam of Zac’s lips, demanding entrance. Zac opened for him with a soft moan, and Chris explored him, rejoicing when Zac’s tongue met his and they took the kiss to a new level. Zac’s hand was on his shoulder, his scent was in Chris’s nostrils, and the bar around them melted away as the kiss deepened.

  Then Zac broke away, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his dark blue shirt. “Fuck, you can kiss.” His pupils were large, his lips slightly swollen.

  “I can do other things too,” Chris said with a grin. “Now you have to decide if you want to find those out for yourself.” He leaned again, until their foreheads touched. “I’ll make it good for you,” he whispered. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Zac’s voice was equally quiet.

  Chris paused before delivering the bad news. “But not tonight.”

  Zac jerked his head back. “What the fuck?” He gaped. “You… you kiss me, you get me more worked up that I’ve ever been—then you pull the plug? What are you, some kind of sadist?”

  Out of the mouths of babes. “On occasion,” Chris admitted. He didn’t want there to be any surprises.

  Zac opened his mouth, but no words came out. His pupils, however… The blue was almost obliterated.

  Chris had to stifle his own moan. The thought that Zac wasn’t completely vanilla was a huge turn-on. Nevertheless, he pushed aside his own needs and focused on Zac’s. “I’m not about to just… dive in. I want to take my time with you. I don’t want to know what makes your engine tick—I wanna know what makes it purr. I wanna watch you, learn what your boundaries are, how far I
can push them.” He smiled. “And I can’t do that in one night. So knowing that, let me ask you again. Is this what you want?”

  Zac stared at him, his eyes still wide. “Yes,” he said at last. “Just…”

  “Just what?” There was something so earnest about him that it tugged at Chris’s heart. Easy now. This is just sex, remember? No boyfriends, no partners, not interested in that? Don’t get carried away.

  “Will you make me wait long before we do get started?”

  Chris wanted to laugh at the difference in him. He cupped Zac’s nape. “No, I won’t do that. In fact… we can start tonight.”

  That hitch in Zac’s breathing was delightful. “How?”

  Chris had the perfect place in mind.

  “Taking a dick is not the only way to have a good time.”

  “What is this place?” It had looked like nothing from the outside, just a bar, but now they were inside, Zac was getting a whole different vibe. A darker vibe, that sent a frisson of excitement trickling through him.

  “Just a bar where I like to hang out sometimes.”

  Zac still couldn’t believe the turn his night had taken. One minute he was watching the usual parade of guys, mentally assessing them, ticking off the ones he’d already fucked, and dismissing the barely legal guys. The next, he was in a bar that apparently had difficulty paying its electricity bills, judging by the poor lighting, but which seemed to be stuffed to the rafters with men. Mostly bordering-on-naked men.

  “And why am I here?” To be honest, he hadn’t known what to expect. Chris was like no other guy he’d ever met. He had this cool, relaxed air about him, like nothing fazed him. Maybe that’s what comes with age. Whatever the reason, Zac liked it.

  He liked the way Chris looked too. He was lean, with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes. A tattoo curled over his collar bones, and eagles’ wings spread upwards from his wrists to his elbows. Not a drop-dead gorgeous kinda guy, but Zac wasn’t interested in someone who could win a beauty pageant. What was between Chris’s ears was much more important.