by Leah Meers
"Still with the awful jokes," I said. I had spent a year in college trying not to laugh at half the things he said.
"They're not awful." He waved a hand to get the bartender's attention. "Whitaker, another rum and coke, please! On the rocks."
The blue-haired bartender smirked as he scooped ice into a glass. "Yes, Gabriel. You know they always come with ice, right?"
"Gabe. Please, just Gabe." He leaned half over the bar and gave the entire room a great view of his ass.
Gave me a great view of his ass, too, because I wasn't passing up the opportunity for a peek.
"You call me Whitaker, and I call you Gabriel. Is this really the way you want to start our working relationship?" He tossed floppy bangs away from his eyes.
Gabe leaned over more until his feet were off the ground and patted the bartender's arm as he passed over the full glass. "It would be so much easier to call you Whit if you had any."
I drowned my laugh in another sip of beer as Whit stuck out his tongue and moved off to serve another customer.
He hopped off the bar and slid onto the barstool next to me. "I didn't think you'd really come here, Cody. I thought maybe…" The humor disappeared from his eyes as he lifted his brows. The silver ring winked in the lights from the liquor shelves. He leaned closer and pressed his leg against mine. His palm found the curve of my arm muscle again, fingertips squeezing. "You do know Revere's is a gay bar, right?"
Chapter Five
Gabe
The firm muscles under my fingertips compelled me to keep squeezing as if I were checking for ripe fruit at the market. The idea of ripe fruit made me snort out another laugh, and Cody shot me a look. I wasn't tipsy enough to act this forward, but my day just kept getting better, and I couldn't help it. Revere's already felt like home. Whit put up with my shit. Emmitt's friends were great. Cody came to a gay bar just to see me.
"So?" he said after turning back to his beer.
Something warm and tingly shot through my gut, and it wasn't the rum. "I just thought maybe you didn't, um… visit places like this." I was fishing, and he was smart enough to know it.
"Came to hang out with an old friend," he said and flashed those blue-green eyes at me.
A man could melt from just one glance. I tried to figure out if I was tipsy enough to use booze as an excuse to push the topic further, but Whit handed over my drink with a smirk, and I had to detach my hand from Cody's muscles. I stared down at my second rum and coke. Cal had brought a round of shots for the booth, and I partook, but two drinks in over an hour was no excuse for anything. The energy of the place, new friends, hot music, and the man I hadn't stopped fantasizing about for years within reach sent me higher than the alcohol.
"I'm glad you did," I said and edged an inch closer to him. I needed to see where this went. If Cody wanted to throw me down and fuck me, I could get on board with that, but what I really wanted in that moment was a simple hug. His brawny arms wrapped around me, making me feel safe like he used to. It didn't have to mean anything other than friendship. At least that's what I tried to convince myself.
~ ~ ~
The first time Cody touched me was a month and a half after I told him I was gay. Baseball practice went bad, and I could hear him cursing as he got in the shower. That wasn't anything new or shocking, and I learned to just stay quiet and let him cool down. Instead of heading to his own bed like he usually did, he flopped on the cheap couch provided by the college and propped his bare feet on the coffee table. His sweats bunched up around his calves and his t-shirt stretched across those amazing muscles.
"Wanna watch a movie or something?" he asked. He sprawled on the couch, but I could see the tension in the arm he held across the back of the seats, and one knee bounced up and down.
"Um, sure." I set my music theory homework aside and settled on the couch. It wasn't that big, but I always managed to leave a suitable space whenever we shared it. Cody had been nothing but decent to me since high school, but plenty of guys preferred to keep a safe distance from their gay friends.
He turned on some random action flick and stared at the screen. I alternated between glances at his face, his still-bouncing knee, and the explosions and shootouts. In the middle of a car chase, I felt his gaze on me. I raised my eyebrows in question.
"Who's that on your shirt?" he asked. Then he did something that nearly made me choke on my tongue. Cody leaned over and grabbed the hem of my tee and pulled the fabric toward him so he could check out the band graphics. His knuckles brushed over my ribs.
My body turned like it was one of those flowers that followed the sun. "Hatching Orange. They're a folk metal band out of Pittsburgh."
He scooted closer and grabbed the other side of my shirt to smooth it out more as he stared at it. "Kinda a stupid name."
I shrugged since my tongue apparently decided it didn't remember how to form words.
When he settled back on the cushions with his arm stretched along the back of the couch behind me, the no-man's-land I had left between us had dwindled to a mere inch. Seconds into the next gun fight between the action hero and the terrorists, I felt Cody's fingers brush my shoulder.
~ ~ ~
"Hey, you went off somewhere," Cody said and nudged me with his elbow. "What're you thinking about?"
I shook my head, upset at the interruption for only a second when I remembered the object of my fantasies was sitting right beside me. "Matt Damon," I said. That had been the actor in the long-ago movie I barely watched once Cody invaded my personal space.
"Matt Damon. Is he your type or something?" He drowned his laugh in another sip of beer.
"Well, I wouldn't push him off my dick, but no." That's as much as I got out before Cody spewed beer all over the bar.
I leaned back and peered at him. "First choking, now spitting. You're not making a good impression here, Cody."
Whit swooped in with a rag and a spritz bottle of cleaner. He gave Cody a cool stare while he wiped everything down. He rolled his eyes at the spluttering apologies and coughing before heading off to help another customer.
"Just an old movie popped into my head." I glanced around, took another drink, and waged a short but brutal mental war over the question on the tip of my tongue. The potentially fun side won. "Wanna get out of here? Just hang out and watch a movie or something? I'm afraid I'll get sick of the place before I start working." I took another sip and tried not to let any hint of the please-say-yes-please-come-home-with-me onto my face.
~ ~ ~
The wind came off the lake with a chill that cut right through the shirt I wore. I clutched myself as goosebumps formed on every inch of my skin. Before I could chide myself for not bringing a jacket, one appeared like magic over my shoulders.
"You're freezing," Cody said. "Let me drive. You've had too much to drink."
I relaxed into the warmth of his blue bomber jacket. It smelled just as good as his hoodie had, and I wondered if I could somehow go through life constantly wearing Cody's clothes. I wasn't a tiny guy at five-ten, but the jacket enveloped me as if I were a kid playing dress-up.
I tucked myself into the passenger seat of his muscle car, and he slid behind the wheel. We didn't speak as he drove through the silent streets to my apartment, parked next to the stairs, and followed me up the two flights into the living room. Without asking, I fetched two glasses of water from the fridge before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over a chair.
We settled on the couch with almost exactly the same amount of space between us as on that fateful day of first contact. I picked out the random movie this time while he kicked his feet up on the coffee table.
"Remember Hatching Orange?" I asked.
He shot me a frown. "What?"
I sighed and sank into the cushions. "Never mind."
An actor I didn't recognize – not Matt Damon – chased the bad guys through a dark warehouse on screen. Gunfire flashed as dramatic music swelled. My mind filled with questions, memories, and dangerous urges that
I could never act on unless Cody gave me some kind of sign that he was anything but a buddy interested in hanging out.
"How much did you have to drink tonight?" he asked after ten silent minutes.
"That was my second rum and coke at the bar, and I didn't even finish it. Oh, and Cal gave me Blue Balls at the booth."
For the second time that night, Cody failed to control the liquid in his mouth. He managed not to spit the water all over my rug but dribbled a bit before choking down his mouthful. "What?" He spun around to stare at me while wiping his chin with one hand.
"You have such trouble keeping things in your mouth." I feigned perfect nonchalance while my insides did flips. "It's a shot. Blue Balls. Rum and curacao and juicy stuff."
"Who is this Cal guy?"
Was that a note of jealousy in his voice? I stroked a hand through my hair and stretched my legs across the table, ankles crossed. "Oh, just this hottie with bulging muscles and tattoos everywhere."
Cody hmphed and spread his own bulging muscles out along the back of the couch toward me.
The uncertainty and coyness might have worked back when we were nineteen, but we were twenty-seven now, for fuck's sake, and I didn't have the patience for this game.
"I'm not interested in Cal," I said with my eyes locked on the car chase on the screen. "And I'm not drunk." With the knowledge I was about to put our renewed friendship in serious jeopardy, I took a deep breath and met Cody's shifting gaze. "I know exactly what I want."
The staring lasted a few seconds past comfortable, and I started to turn away when Cody's hand shot out and grabbed the front of my shirt. He tugged once, and I went willingly, scrambling to my knees next to him and slinging one leg over to straddle his lap. I swept my palms up his bare arms before resting them against the firm, defined pecs that stretched his t-shirt in delicious ways.
His hands dropped from my shirt to my hips, and his fingers clenched hard enough to feel through my jeans. I glanced down and saw his own bulge filling the denim behind the straining zipper. He pulled me tighter against him and pushed his left hand through my loose hair as his eyes slipped closed.
"I remember Hatching Orange," he said in a near whisper. "That shirt you wore the first day we…" His fingers curved around the back of my head. "Were together."
"Their later songs sucked. Went darker, abandoned the folk roots, and just—"
"Gabe." He bit my name out as his eye flashed open and blazed almost turquoise into mine. "Do you really think I'm looking for a music lesson right now?"
Our first kiss all those years ago was a gentle, hesitant thing. Cody had seemed so unsure, like he was stepping off a cliff into some great unknown. I guess he had been.
When our mouths met this time, any trace of hesitation vanished as he claimed my lips with his. I opened to him the second I felt his tongue swipe across the seam and sucked it into my mouth. The kiss felt both familiar and brand new, like a favorite melody played in a new key. A groan escaped my throat as he shifted his hand through my hair and pulled me tighter against him.
In a moment, all the years since our first time vanished, and passion filled the spaces where doubt and worry once lived. He held me against him, one hand sliding from hip to the curve of my lower back, the other pushing and tangling in my hair. Heat swirled down and through me as our lips and tongues explored. If I didn't unzip soon, I feared my dick would get permanently mangled.
Cody winced when he pulled his shirt off over his head, and I swept my palm gently up his arm, feather-light over his shoulder, and to his neck. "Does it hurt?"
His lips tightened as if he didn't want to admit it before he grumbled, "A bit, yeah, and I can't lift my arm too high."
I kissed and nibbled down the other side of his neck. "Then don't do that." I sat back, tore my own shirt off, and caught his eye. "I'll touch you other places," I said with a mock casual shrug.
"God damn, Gabe." His gaze raked over my tattooed chest, and then his hands slid up my ribs and traced the kaleidoscope of graphics, musical notes, and lyrics that swirled together. One thumb rubbed over a nipple, caught on the piercing for a second and shot sparks straight to my groin, then continued its sweep up to my throat.
"If I don't get to take my pants off soon, Cody, my dick is going to die of strangulation." With all the blood throbbing down there, I didn't have enough left in my brain to stop every desperate thought from escaping my mouth.
Thank all the gods of rock that he just laughed and dropped his hands to my waist to unbutton and unzip my tight jeans.
I opened his fly before jumping off his lap, dropping both my pants and briefs in one fell swoop, and kneeling between his man-spread knees to tug at his. He lifted his hips and let me strip him bare. No warnings. No questions. I leaned forward and sucked his cock to the back of my throat, tasting the salty-sweet musk of him I still remembered on my tongue.
His shout bounced off the walls and his delicious six-pack abs tightened before he slumped back against the couch. His fingers bunched my long hair and held it back so he could watch me the way he used to while I worshipped his cock with my lips and tongue.
Gone was the careful man who came with a clenched jaw or his face buried in a pillow. We had to be quiet back then in the thin-walled dorms. Now that he could let loose, Cody's curses and guttural cries of pleasure spurred me on.
My cock ached for contact and I just managed to stop myself from humping the couch to get some friction. I sucked him deeper until my nose hit his dark curls and swallowed rough around the head of his cock.
"Oh fuck, oh god. No. Gabe, stop. I'm gonna… Stop!" He pulled on the handful of my hair.
I detached instantly and sat back on my heels. Stop? Did he think I didn't swallow anymore? Did he not want this? I met his gaze, but he didn't give me a chance to think any more dark thoughts.
"I want it…" A fierce blush bloomed over his cheeks. "On you. I want to come on…. Please."
Memories of late nights in our dorm room, hand jobs, blowjobs, and Cody's strong fingers trailing through the stripes and puddles of cum on his skin or mine. Realization dawned. I had been with plenty of guys who liked kinky stuff, and I knew a long list of stuff that turned people on. Hell, my dick was pierced, so yeah, not some innocent flower. I hadn't known cum play was an actual thing back then, but memories combined with what Cody asked for now made it click.
He looked so scared, like he thought he just ruined everything with his heat-of-the-moment request.
I leaned over and placed a kiss on his inner thigh. "Anything you want, Cody," I said, and wrapped my hand around his cock. It took only a few strokes before he was panting and thrusting up into my fist. I crawled onto the couch cushions and leaned back before I tugged him toward me by his dick.
His knee tucked under my throbbing balls, and his other foot on the floor, he held his body over mine with one muscled arm. His breath washed hot across my face as he stared into my eyes. He still looked scared.
"Do it," I whispered. "Mark me." I stroked my dick where it bobbed against my belly.
Cody stared at my hand shuttling over my cock for a long moment before he leaned back and grabbed his own. He groaned low and desperate before his eyes squeezed shut and his hand fisted around his cock. His other hand skimmed up my side to rub across my nipple before he caught it between two fingers and pulled on the piercing.
"Do that again," I breathed and twisted my hand over the head of my cock. My balls tightened as my orgasm built.
He complied with another sharp pinch and a slow roll over the piercing.
Too much sensation and no reason to hold back. "Fuck me," I gasped before shooting white ribbons across my belly and chest. My muscles clenched, and I surged off the cushions toward where Cody loomed over me.
Cody's groan became a roar as he jerked himself harder and finally came, adding his spunk to mine. His gaze trailed over my body and the patterns we made with such intensity it almost felt like a physical touch.
I tracked where
he looked and reached down to swipe a finger through one streak before sucking it between my lips.
He drew in a shaky breath, his lips fallen open and trembling. His cock plumped up again just from watching my hand drift down again to trail through the white.
So, Cody liked it dirty. I could get on board with that. I swiped my index finger through our spunk again, painted my bottom lip like I was putting on lip gloss, and sat up to lean toward him.
Right before I closed my eyes to move in for the kiss, the stark hunger in his own nearly stole my breath. We stayed there kissing and exploring each other's bodies until one o'clock came and went. Round two, or three, or whatever took place in the shower with quick blowjobs before he finally got back into his clothes and jacket and hurried down the steps to his car.
He forgot his hoodie again, which was perfectly fine with me.
Chapter Six
Cody
Even after waking up hard as a rock from dreams of Gabe naked and laid out before me every morning for a week, I couldn't bring myself to call or text. Gabe didn't either, which made all sorts of horrible doubts creep in. Maybe he didn't want to get that involved. Maybe he got super freaked out when I asked for… well, what I asked for.
I scrubbed my hands across my face. I never asked women not to swallow. I had seen enough awkward looks when I touched my spunk if they pulled off. I trained myself not to do anything like that… to act normal. And then I just came right out and asked? Gabe probably thought I was some kind of sicko.
Still, thoughts of our encounter filled my head like the roar of the crowd during a game. It was like this constant undercurrent of lust and energy that affected everything else I did. The back-and-forth thoughts messed with my head. He seemed into it, but then he ghosted. Or I ghosted him.
I still couldn't contact him and ask for another round. Or just a chat. Or a date. Or anything. A date? Could I even think about asking another guy on a date? The idea intrigued me a lot more than I thought it would. Maybe I could make reservations at some nice restaurant or catch a live band at one of those fancy clubs in the city. We could talk and laugh, share an appetizer, and I would get to touch him again. Or maybe I could take him to one of those open-air concerts… although they only happened in the summer, right?