On a Roll

by Beth Bolden

  Sean was worried about that too. He’d consulted a few recipes online, trying to find the right proportions, but so far it didn’t seem to be coming together to be quite as thick as he’d hoped.

  And frankly, the longer they stayed cooped up here together, the more likely it was that he was going to lean in and kiss Gabe.

  It would hardly be the end of the world; but he’d been trying so hard to keep their hookups away from regular business hours, in what was probably a very stupid attempt to make the whole name thing easier.

  But it was never going to be easy. Sean had come to realize at least that much. They were too intertwined, and now because of Tony’s stupid plan, there were even more threads that were holding them together.

  “I have an idea,” Gabe said. “What about some balsamic vinegar?”

  “What?” Sean refrained from explaining, in very small words, that this was supposed to be an Asian dish. He might have, a few weeks ago. But now he waited for Gabriel to clarify what he meant.

  “We need it to be thicker, right?” Gabriel said. “And we talked about needing some kind of acid to offset the sweetness. I know this is supposed to be Thai . . .”

  “I’d say it’s a very loose interpretation,” Sean admitted. He was hardly an expert. And unfortunately, he couldn’t really call up Jet Tila and ask him.

  “So you want me to grab some?” Gabriel asked. He was clearly trying to be casual about it, but Sean could hear the excitement in his tone. “We do that caprese salad special sometimes, so I’ve got some in the truck.”

  “Sure, why not,” Sean said. Theoretically it sounded like a decent idea, and it would give Gabriel more representation in the final dish.

  “I’ll be right back,” Gabriel said, and when he turned and climbed down the little stairs to the ground, Sean was embarrassed to realize that he actually missed the heat of him after he left.

  A minute later though, Gabriel was back, like he’d actually raced across the lot so he could grab the vinegar. “Here you go,” he said, breathlessly, setting it on the countertop next to Sean’s burner. “I think maybe a tablespoon or two?”

  “That sounds like a good place to start,” Sean agreed. He drizzled it in, and then kept stirring, incorporating it into the mixture.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw Gabe’s hand reach out towards the pan and at the last second, he slapped it away.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  Gabe’s expression was sheepish. “Trying it?”

  “Then get a spoon, you heathen,” he said. “Also, this is hot, and it has sugar in it, and you’d probably have burned the hell out of your fingers.”

  “I’ve burned them so many times, I think I’ve got permanent callouses on the tips,” Gabriel admitted.

  Sean knew; he’d felt them, when Gabriel had touched him all over. Just the idea of those soft-rough fingers touching him now made him shiver.

  “Maybe,” he said, dropping his voice, because while they might be in his truck, the window was open and people could overhear them, “maybe I want to make sure your fingers are in excellent condition for later.”

  “Later, huh?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes sparkling. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I’d thought about inviting you over last night . . .” Sean said, trailing off. But after Tony’s announcement, it had felt weird, like the two worlds he was desperately trying to keep separate had collided. Maybe they were still colliding, but he’d talked himself off that cliff last night. He’d been so clear before this whole thing started. It was just sex. And this, Sean reminded himself, wasn’t even a date! This was for work. They’d been assigned this task by Tony, and while they were both technically independent and could’ve told him to fuck off, Tony would make them regret it.

  “I wanted to come over last night,” Gabriel said.

  Sean liked his bluntness. Liked that they weren’t dancing around this as much. It was easier, clearer, way less complicated to just state outright what they both wanted. And it reassured him because it felt nothing like dating.

  They were working together. They were fucking. That was all.

  “Well, you can tonight, if you want,” Sean said.

  “I do want.” Gabriel’s voice had gone very low and there was an intensity in his expression—not just a want, but a need—and Sean felt himself go very hot and then very cold, all over.

  He really loved his job. Had loved it for the two years he’d done it. But suddenly, he wished that he could just take a day off.

  Turn off the burner and lock the door behind them and drag Gabriel back to his house now.

  Sean glanced up at him, their gazes locking, and his fingers trembled on the spatula. “I wish . . .”

  “I know,” Gabriel said.

  It had been a long time since he’d dated, but he swore that friends with only benefits didn’t look at each other like that. Didn’t yearn for each other the way he was yearning now. You’re just fucking, Sean reminded himself, that’s what you asked for, and that’s what you’re getting.

  Instead of holding Gabriel’s gaze, Sean glanced down at the pan and gave it another half-hearted stir. The good news is that if things were intense now, right in this moment, they’d definitely be calmer by the end of the night, when Gabriel walked home with him. He knew they would be.

  As for right now, he could focus on the task at hand. Fulfill Tony’s request, and do it, to everyone’s likely shock, without killing each other.

  “Can you grab me that spoon over there?” Sean asked, gesturing to the organizer full of utensils. “I think this is about ready.”

  Gabe slapped the spoon into Sean’s waiting palm. “You think so?” he said.

  Sean stirred the mixture with the spoon and then let it slowly drizzle out. It seemed thick and also sticky enough. The only question was, did it taste good? He lifted the spoon to his mouth and this time it was Gabe’s hand that shot out and held his elbow, preventing him from actually tasting it.

  “You’re gonna burn your mouth,” Gabe said, “and I'm definitely going to need it later.”

  Sean laughed. “Fine, fine, fine,” he said, carefully blowing on the hot liquid on the spoon, waiting another second until it was probably not nuclear. “I’ll save my tongue for you,” he said.

  “Damn straight you will,” Gabriel said with an amused chuckle.

  This time when Sean raised the spoon to his lips, he was more careful, flicking his tongue out, just to taste the tiniest bit, because Gabe was annoyingly right, he didn’t want to burn his tongue.

  Flavor exploded across it. Garlic and sesame and the umami of the soy sauce, balanced by the sweetness of the brown sugar, and then the slightest hint of tang from the balsamic vinegar.

  “It’s really good,” Sean said, offering the spoon to Gabriel, who didn’t carefully lick it, he stuck the whole thing in his mouth and smiled widely as he tasted it.

  “That is really fucking good,” Gabe agreed. “And don’t get all pissy, but it’s the balsamic that makes it.”

  Sean had been thinking the same thing, and hoping that Gabriel wouldn’t notice, but of course he had. Despite what he thought—that all he did was make his nonna’s recipes—Gabriel was a great cook and a very talented chef.

  “It works,” Sean said noncommittally. He liked Gabriel now, though the truth was, he wasn’t exactly sure when that had begun, but they weren’t getting all buddy buddy. Just in bed, that was all. He didn’t need to fix Gabriel’s crisis of confidence.

  “Yeah, it does,” Gabriel said, sounding very pleased with himself.

  And maybe he didn’t need to, anyway. After all, Sean had never had even an inkling that Gabriel wasn’t confident until his confession the other night. There were even times he’d believed Gabriel was annoyingly overconfident.

  Maybe it was an act, but Sean decided that it wasn’t his business. He was just here for the fucking, thank you very much.

  “Let’s get the meatballs in the
re,” Sean said, and Gabriel nodded, popping the lid on the container. He grabbed a knife from the bin and casually cut them in his hand as he dropped them one by one into the glaze.

  “Four, yeah?” Gabriel asked.

  “I think so,” Sean said, frowning. He’d grabbed another tortilla—spinach, again, because he liked the bright green color of it so much—and stuck it in the press, warming it up enough that it’d be pliable enough to fold.

  When it was done, he pulled it out, and let it cool just for a second, so his veggies wouldn’t wilt. Then, he pulled off the plastic covers of the fresh veggie bins that he’d stocked early this morning, before Gabriel had even arrived.

  Matchstick length carrots and cucumbers and pickled red onions, and shredded cabbage and lettuce went on, followed by a dusting of fresh cilantro and mint, and then the peanuts.

  “These,” Sean explained as he sprinkled them on, “aren’t candied the way I want them to be, but I thought I’d experiment some after hours, maybe at home, with getting them just the way I want them. But it’ll give you some idea of the crunch aspect.”

  “Alright,” Gabriel said. He was staring intently at the wrap as Sean built the base, and then began to layer on the meatballs, sticky and sweet. “That’s a lot of vegetables.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s supposed to be,” Sean said. “That’s kind of my signature.”

  “It’s not mine,” Gabriel retorted, that stubborn glint returning to his eye.

  “And?” Sean said. “This is supposed to be about compromise. We’re compromising. Do you need a definition of what that means?”

  “No,” Gabriel said. “But . . . cabbage. On my meatballs.”

  “Technically,” Sean said with a grin, “the cabbage is under your meatballs.”

  “Oh, is that supposed to make it better?”

  Sean shrugged. “Maybe? But I think this is gonna be good.” He finished wrapping it up, and without all the extra red sauce, and with the added stickiness of the glaze, it was much easier. He sliced it in half with a knife, and then picked up the side closest to him. “Cheers,” he said, tilting his head.

  Gabriel rolled his eyes but picked up the other half.

  Sean had been working on various kinds of wraps for years now. Long before he’d ever dreamed of owning his own food truck. But there was always something special about the first bite of something he knew could be extraordinary. And this definitely had that possibility.

  He could see from the look on Gabriel’s face as he took one bite and chewed, and then another, his expression carefully blank. But it was never blank, almost ever, and that alone was enough to tell Sean everything he needed to know.

  Gabriel liked it, and didn’t want to like it.

  “Well, I think this is a solid first pass,” Sean said. “This is our dish.”

  “You think so?”

  Sean shot him a look. Only Gabriel would try to claim something wasn’t delicious when it so clearly was. “I do. I guess the only question is . . . do you?”

  It was almost fun to watch him try to hedge. “It’s fine,” he said. “You know, the cabbage notwithstanding.”

  “I almost think,” Sean said, after chewing a third bite and swallowing, “that the veg could use like a really light dressing. Like lime, some really neutral oil maybe.”

  “Is that going to change the cabbage to be not cabbage?” Gabriel wondered.

  Sean elbowed him in the side. “What is with you and the cabbage?” he asked.

  “I guess I should be grateful you didn’t put kale on it,” he said.

  “So I suppose the kale chip idea is out, then,” Sean teased him back.

  “Kale chips?” Gabriel sounded aghast at the idea. “Chips are potatoes, thank you very much, and I wouldn’t want to put them with so many vegetables. Might get the wrong idea.”

  “That what? They’re both vegetables?”

  “No,” Gabriel said, “that they’re healthy.”

  “Ugh,” Sean said. “It’s amazing you’re healthy.”

  “It’s these good Italian genes. And the olive oil.” Gabriel finished the wrap in another two bites. “I guess,” he finally conceded, “that you were right.”

  “And you were wrong?” It was a bit like playing with fire to antagonize Gabe this way. But Sean had been dipping his toes in it for two years now, and it could be quite fun. The way Gabe’s eyes darkened today, that was definitely fun.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Gabriel said.

  “Of course not,” Sean said, rolling his eyes. “Because that might dent your belief in your complete superiority.”

  “Hey,” Gabe said, leaning down, and suddenly, he was so close. Close enough that all Sean would have to do to lick that tiny speck of glaze off his upper lip was flick his tongue out. And he wanted to. The craving was practically staggering him. “You weren’t exactly complaining last time about my complete superiority.”

  He hadn’t been. He’d been so overwhelmed by the pleasure of it that for a split second, he’d forgotten about everything.

  And that, Sean discovered, was kind of a nice thing.

  He wanted Gabriel to do it again.

  “And maybe I won’t this time, either,” he teased, and before he could help himself, reached up and licked that speck right off Gabriel’s lip.

  His stunned expression was going to be worth the blue balls he’d be forced to endure all freaking day.

  ———

  It was a struggle to pretend that he wasn’t right on the edge of desperation.

  It was hard to force his stride to match Gabriel’s casual, clearly not in any big hurry pace as they walked back to his townhouse after a day in which Sean thought, more than once, that he was just going to give up and admit defeat and walk right over to Gabriel’s food truck and demand that he come with him right now.

  It was even harder when they reached the house, and Sean felt like he was nearly going out of his skin, but Gabriel was apparently unconcerned, relaying a seemingly endless story about Ren and one of their customers.

  “And then he said that . . .” was all Gabriel got out before the door closed and Sean could think of no other way to put it, but he pounced.

  The first night they’d spent together, Gabriel had taken over, had pressed him to the door, all sweet, hot drugging kisses that had made him lose it so much faster than he’d intended. But this was all white-hot flashing heat, a day’s worth of agonizing want condensed into one single moment.

  He had Gabriel pushed against the door in a second, and then they were kissing, wildly, breaking apart only so Gabe could gasp out, “What . . . uh . . .”

  “Shut up,” Sean said, and then forcibly dragged him towards the bedroom.

  “Were you like this all day?” Gabe wondered as he watched Sean pull his shirt off, and toe off his sneakers. So much for shut up. “All . . . ready to go?”

  Gabe might be into all this talking, and Sean wasn’t necessarily not into it, but right now, what he was into was getting naked and getting off.

  How had he gone all those years without anything? He didn’t know, because now it was like a tsunami had been unleashed and he was just letting the wave carry him.

  Sean reached for Gabe’s hand and took it, pressing it against his hard-on, as he wiggled out of his shorts. “Get me off,” he said, “now.”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “By the way,” he said, conversationally, like he wasn’t already driving Sean crazy with the way his fingers were tracing his cock in his briefs, “I really like this.”

  “Me being bossy?”

  “You being so worked up,” Gabriel said, grinning. He pushed Sean onto the bed, and lowered himself to his knees. “Just look at this,” he said, as he pulled down his briefs and his cock bobbed out, hard and so red at the tip. “You’re so worked up. And it’s all for me.”

  Sean wanted to disagree, to tell him he was just horny in general, thank you very much, but then Gabriel leaned forward and his tongue was stroking the head of hi
s cock and it felt so goddamned good that all Sean could do was moan.

  Thankfully, sucking his cock was the one thing that actually seemed to shut Gabe up—though Sean was sure he wouldn’t have noticed anyway. He was too far gone, his fingers clenching the sheets on the bed, already having to resist the urge to just thrust into Gabriel’s mouth, to let the overwhelming pleasure overtake him. But he’d wanted it too long to let it go so quickly. He wanted to enjoy it.

  Gabe made a guttural groan deep in his throat as he sucked more of him down, and it was intoxicating, that he loved it as much as Sean did.

  When he glanced down, the sight of Gabe on his knees, sucking his cock, was almost enough, pushing him right to the edge, and then he saw Gabe rocking against his own hand, shoved down his pants, like he couldn’t wait either, and that was enough to completely unravel him.

  “Oh my god, yes,” Sean cried out as his hips thrust, almost involuntarily, and when Gabe groaned again, he couldn’t help himself. He did it again. And again, the pleasure roaring through him was not some meek little thing, but a beast, with claws. It tore at him, and he barely had a second to warn Gabriel before he was coming, long, shuddering pulses.

  “Fuck,” Gabriel said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Fuck, that was so goddamn hot.”

  “Was it?” Sean said, sleepily, opening his eyes to see that Gabe had left a mess of his own, right there on the hardwood floor. He smiled. “I guess it was.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” Gabriel said, almost apologetically. “You should . . . we should . . .”

  “Yeah,” Sean agreed, because he knew what he was saying. They should do that every single goddamn day.

  Gabriel nodded, taking the tissues that Sean handed him and cleaning up. After he’d tossed them in the trash, he climbed on the bed, putting too much weight on him, but Sean decided he didn’t mind. Decided he almost kind of liked it.

  Milo had been about his size, maybe even a bit thinner. The weight and heft of Gabriel was reassuring, almost.

  “I should . . .”

  Sean knew what he was going to say. He should leave. But it was clear from his voice that he didn’t want to, and Sean already knew he didn’t want him to. Maybe it was poor hookup etiquette, maybe Ren would be horrified, but Sean felt safe because he’d made the parameters so clear early on. Surely staying the night wouldn’t mean anything, not when he’d been so cut and dry about the way this arrangement was going to work.