Cruising For Trouble: A M/M Contemporary Romance

by Romeo Alexander

  Before I can say anything, the door opens and I freeze in my chair. Alex is standing there.

  “Come in, Alex,” I flick the light back on and stare at him, dumbfounded. Of all the people I’d expected, I hadn’t expected him.

  “Um, hi. I was just…well I thought maybe we should talk.”

  I nod and stand, walking over to hold the door open for him as he hesitates.

  “Yes, I think that’s probably a good idea. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, well how to express…” I trail off, not even knowing where to begin. He’s so intimidating just standing there, taller than me, so I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. He’s still in his casual clothes, but it has no less effect on his demeanor. I feel like I’m in a romantic drama, about to spill my feelings on the floor and then watch myself be scorned by the prospective lover. How am I going to do this?

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I offended you,” he says.

  He runs a hand through his hair and I clench my hands together behind my back. I want nothing more than to reach up and touch it. It looks soft and wavy and, I shake my head again, trying to clear my thoughts.

  “Oh, no, you didn’t offend me. I was just surprised by your reaction in the hall, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that you reacted the way you did,” I turn and walk back to my chair and toss my notes on the table beside it. When I sit down it feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders while my moment of reprieve is standing right in front of me, and I blow it.

  Alex looks slightly confused again, and then shrugs, sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s on my bed! I glance down at his profile and visions of returning the favor from the club dance across my mind. I shift awkwardly in my chair, trying to get comfortable and hide the boner tenting my pants.

  “I think we’ve both been reacting to one another and not really understanding what’s going on. Do you agree?”

  I blink. He looks so serious and I take I take it as a sign he means to talk, nothing else. My anticipation and excitement sink. “Yes. Of course. I…if I’d known I’d be working with you, at the club, I mean, I wouldn’t…”

  “You wouldn’t have gone upstairs with me,” he finishes. I blush and look away, hating the feeling of heat in my cheeks. I search for the words that can somehow make this all okay, but then he surprises me when he continues. “Did you like it, David?”

  “What?” my head whips back to look at him and he’s leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at me intently.

  “I asked you if you liked what I did in the club,” his voice is quiet, but the intensity behind the words demands an explanation. There’s no escaping answering his question, whether I want to or not. Comfort levels be damned.

  I swallow around the lump in my throat and wipe my palms on my pants. But when I try to answer him, it comes out as a croak. “Yes,” and then I settle for nodding my head again.

  “What did you like about it, David?”

  He continues to hold my gaze and I tug at my collar. Is he purposefully trying to make me uncomfortable? Squirming in my seat under his scrutiny I wish I could prop one of my legs to the side. My balls are tight and hot, and my thighs are pressed together so tightly, trying to hide the situation, it’s uncomfortable to the point of distraction.

  “I…I liked…” I can’t talk about this. Can’t he see that? Why can’t he see that? I look away, trying to focus on something, anything that will give me relief from the intensity of it all.

  “David, look at me.”

  Glancing back and ducking my head I peek up at him from under the brim of my hat. “It felt…it was incredible,” I whisper.

  The answer seems to satisfy him because he sits back and smiles a little before responding. “It was the first time you’ve allowed yourself to be pleasured by another man, wasn’t it?”

  His voice cracks a little at the end and I glance up. An awkward look crosses his face briefly. Like he’s thinking of the first time he admitted to himself he’s gay.

  “Yes,” I whisper again, and my fingers shake, gripping the edge of my chair. I take a deep breath, rising and walking over to him. My whole body trembles as I stand in front of him. I feel a little more in control as I look down at him, and he tilts his head back, looking up at me.

  “Then you know it’s okay to want to kiss me, right, David?”

  I groan and lower my head as my hands come up and cup his face. I can’t help the war inside me, but the part that continues to tell me this has to be wrong is slowly losing the battle. How can it be wrong if it feels so right? My tongue slips inside his mouth, between his parted lips, and I feel the tension leave his body as he sighs. His legs part and I stand between them, feeling the press of my dick against the edge of the bed and his thigh. His leg muscles shake as he closes his knees around my hips, and I gasp when his hands come up behind me and cup my ass, squeezing and holding me against him.

  I continue the kiss, slanting my mouth over his. He still tastes like peppermint. It’s sharp, cool, and fresh and I wonder how it would feel against my heated skin. Would it tingle? The thought makes me stiffen as my dick throbs and I sway against him. I drop one of my hands to his shoulder to steady myself as I let the other wander up and tangle with his hair. It’s as soft as I imagined, and I continue to rake my fingers across his scalp, which he seems to enjoy because he moans every time I do it.

  My other hand slowly trails down over his chest, feeling the hard muscles under my fingers. I wish the shirt was gone so I can feel his skin, but what I really want to know is whether he’s as aroused as I am. Stopping when my hand reaches his navel, my fingers tremble with indecision.

  Alex takes pity on my insecurity and lets go of my ass with one hand, reaching in between us to grasp my wrist. He moves my hand south and cups the back of my hand with his own, placing it around his dick and squeezing, causing my hand to flex and squeeze against the hot material. There’s no denying now that he’s turned on. The hiss he lets out as I rub him through his pants is enough to tell me that. And if it wasn’t, his body jerks under me the more I stroke him.

  I fumble pulling his shirt out of his shorts. Untucking it, I’m able to dive in and finally make contact with his skin. A fine trail of hair tickles my palm, just above the hem of his shorts, and the contact seems to be enough to stir him to action.

  One moment I’m standing at the foot of the bed, and the next I feel him surge up and wrap his arms around me, pulling me on to the bed. It’s the first time the kiss breaks, and I cry out in frustration. I end up pinned to the bed, in front of him and slightly under him, and then his mouth is on mine again and my frustrated grunts are drowned out as his hips grind into mine.

  At first, the intensity of what’s happening shocks me, and my frustration causes me to struggle and try to pull away. Then my body takes over and I feel myself grinding back against his hips with equal force, trying to rub myself against him through our clothes. Guttural sounds of desire come from him, and my mind is screaming at him to help me ditch our clothes and rub our cocks together, flesh to flesh.

  Reaching down I try to grab the button of his shorts or my own, but Alex moves my hand away from in between us. I do the only thing I can think of and reach around to grab his ass in an attempt to pull him tighter.

  I press against him, not sure if the pressure is helping or making the ache in my balls even worse. Every time I feel the thick ridge of his cock against mine, I swivel my hips, trying to create the maximum friction. The thick head of his cock rubbing against the sensitive head of mine is pushing me toward creating a mess in my own pants despite the layers of material. My mind is split between not caring if this happens, and wanting the clothes gone so, at the very least, I can feel his flesh between us and not give a damn if I explode all over him. The thought of the mess both excites me and appalls me, but excitement seems to be winning out.

  I break off the kiss as I feel his weight shift fully on top of me. My legs are
spread, pressed to the bed, and both of my hands have found his ass. I trail hot, wet kisses down his throat and nip at the pulse in his neck, making him gasp. Again I try to wiggle my hand between us and unzip his fly, but again he captures my hand, lacing our fingers together and pinning it up above my head.

  “Alex!” I groan as I wriggle beneath him, trying to convey my frustration and protest being denied. “Alex, I want…”

  He kisses me again, silencing my demands so I grunt and capture his bottom lip with my teeth. I’m in charge. I’ve always been in charge. He’s withholding what I want and need, and I growl at him with his lip in my teeth. I don’t bite hard, I’m not a sadist, but I want him to know that denial is not something I’m accustomed to suffering through.

  I’m just about to kiss and nip along his neck so I can nibble at his earlobe when I feel him stiffen above me. I tilt my head back and look up at him. He seems frozen, like a Greek god as he stares down at me, and then he whispers, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” and before I can ask him what’s wrong, he scrambles back off the bed and runs out the door, slamming it behind him.

  I stare at the door in shock and disbelief, with my dick throbbing in my pants. Throwing my arm across my face I howl my frustration into the crook of my elbow. What had I done that was so wrong I chased him away?

  11

  Alex Keys

  Waiting until David walks over to hold the door open, I walk in. I look down into his face, gauging his reaction to my presence. He doesn’t seem upset, more nervous than anything.

  He and I bumble our way through an awkward conversation, and I know we need to communicate what we’re feeling. His actions on the set that night were baffling, and I know mine must have seemed strange to him as well. I inwardly curse Aaron for being the bane of my existence. He just has to revolutionize cock blocking for me, his twin.

  I listen as David tries to explain away his feelings, and it annoys me and saddens me to see he’s incapable of accepting himself. I wince at the memories of struggling with my sexuality, and I completely understand what he’s going through, but it doesn’t make it any easier to know that he’s struggling to accept his sexuality.

  “Did you like it, David?” I ask him quietly.

  He looks away but the blush on his face is apparent. Of course he did, physically anyway, but that isn’t the response I’m looking for. I want to know where his headspace is at. If there’s any doubt about what happened, I’ll turn and crawl away and not darken his doorstep again. If he didn’t want it, or me, that’s a line I’m not willing to push. Consent is always key. But if he wanted me, and he still does, but is unsure how to ask for that, then we’re playing by a different set of rules.

  “What did you like about it, David?” I’m determined to get a response from him that’s more than a yes or a nod. It doesn’t surprise me when he fumbles with the answer. He’s been denying himself his own pleasure for so long, it’s as if his mind is trying to block out the event as being pleasurable to begin with. I lean forward on my arms and watch him search the rest of the room like he’s searching for a life preserver. I feel myself crack when he looks up at me, almost like a puppy that knows it’s done wrong.

  “It was the first time you’ve allowed yourself to be pleasured by another man, wasn’t it?” I ask him. I can’t help the emotion in my voice. I want nothing more than for him to know that being gay, having feelings for another man, is completely okay. The only person judging him so harshly is himself. If there’s anything he takes away from this conversation, I want it to be this.

  Before I can follow up with anything else, any advice to give him, he’s taken a breath and launched himself from his chair. He’s standing before me, shaking with desire and anticipation. I don’t need to feel the press of it against the bed and my thigh to know he’s been sporting a boner since I walked in. But the hot throbbing on my leg is enough to get my own engine revved, and before I can react, he’s bending over, kissing me.

  Well this is a pleasant surprise for sure. I wasn’t sure he had the courage to make the first move, but this could potentially be a breakthrough for him, so I let it happen.

  Things progress quickly to some heavy petting. When he reaches between us, despite my body telling me otherwise, I know I have to slow this situation drastically, because he’s going for gold and the last thing I want is for him to regret it again. I’d wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed his ass, pressing him into me, but it’s time to take the reins and slow this ride down.

  I move, shifting his weight onto the bed and positioning myself so I’m angled over him, but he’s still on his side. It gives me access to continue the grind, and damn but it feels so good rubbing my own stiff cock against his bulge. The friction is maddening, but not enough to push me over the edge. I need to maintain control of this situation and make sure we go slow enough that he knows exactly what he’s asking for and getting, and more importantly, that he’s truly okay with it.

  But when he figures out the rhythm, I’m screwed. He’s caught up with the tempo, so every time I rub up, he rubs down, catching the head of my dick through the fabric so the sensitive underside is receiving maximum friction. Spots swim in front of my eyes and I have to kiss him before I start openly panting like a dog. He’s a fast learner, damn it. I feel his fingers fumbling between us and I know exactly what his aim is. I want nothing more than skin to skin action, but I know if I give in to that it would be maybe a stroke or two and then instead of heavy petting and grinding, we’d end up with a mess.

  I roll so all my weight is on top of him, feeling him flail under me as he struggles for control. My eyes pop open and widen when both his hands reach up and grab my ass, massaging, lifting, and spreading my cheeks. Damn, damn, damn! I’m quickly losing control of this ship. I groan and continue kissing him as he tries to break the kiss and nip at my neck. If he gets his lips and tongue on my nipples, I’m going to lose my shit. Nothing but irreversible erogenous zones lie that way, where I lose all control of my faculties. I’d be done for and would do anything he wants. I can feel his frustration mounting, because my own is just as insistent. When his hand begins groping again I have to grab his wrist, move it out from between us, and link our fingers.

  I can’t lose control of this situation. The look on his face, the way he shunned me. I stiffen, remembering the way I was rejected. Was that how this was going to play out this time too? What was going to happen when David second guessed his or my intentions and then cried foul? I’ve had a history of men who use me for one reason or another. I’ve played along, enjoying the intimacy, however brief, but even Alayah has pointed out to me the emptiness of those encounters.

  I scramble off the bed, wishing things hadn’t gone this far with David. He’s not going to understand, he will surely feel rejected, but his demanding demeanor that came on so suddenly is enough to make me back off. Is he the virgin who needs someone to help him explore? Or is he pretending to be shy to get what he wants, then turns the tables and vies for control of the situation once he has someone in the bedroom?

  I curse at myself as I slam the door behind me and lean back against it, panting with desire and frustration. Of all the inopportune times for my mind to decide it has a moral compass, this was probably the worst possible situation. I’ve helped men discover themselves sexually, but they’ve never been men I work for. I cringe and whimper as the pain of denial shoots through my dick, landing me with another serious case of blue balls. David is a high-profile person in the industry and he has the potential to ruin my career if he chooses. Better to break things off now than in a day or two, when he suffers his own internal breakdown and accuses me of inappropriate behavior on and off the set. It wouldn’t be the first time it’d happened in the industry, and with him as insecure as he is, it would just add accelerant to the fire.

  I look left and right, grateful no one saw me come from his room. Being seen with the producer is a sure way of ending up this year’s talk of the industry. Drama thrived on se
t when there was a juicy rumor going around. People couldn’t help but get caught up in it, and David has the power to make or break my career if he chooses not to tolerate the rumors. What does he want with me? He’s so hot and cold. It was my own fault for letting this go as far as it did, but damn it! I can’t get a grip on his headspace. I think I know where he’s at, and then it’s like a switch goes off and he’s a producer, demanding things from me that I am unsure how to deliver without one or both of us getting hurt.

  I make my way back towards my cabin before David has a chance to open the door and make a scene. The last thing either one of us needs is to be caught. Gritting my teeth I consider how I’m going to get rid of this throbbing erection in my pants. It’s rubbing against my boxers and I have to stop a moment when the hallway opens up to a railed section that overlooks the water. So far I haven’t met anyone on the way to my room, which is a good thing, but I stop a moment to take a few deep breaths of fresh air and try to calm myself down. It doesn’t help. I guess I’m at that point of no return. The one where I need to crawl back to my room, ditch the shorts and boxers, wrap a hand around myself, and rub until white spots appear in front of my eyes and I pass out from pleasure.

  The problem is getting back to my cabin. It’s still another five-to-ten-minute walk, and the pressure in my balls is enough to threaten those spots in front of my eyes prematurely. I look around, can I chance it? I figure it’s probably better if I don’t, but I can’t help it. I reach down and give myself a squeeze, gasping at the pressure. That was a bad idea. I’d thought it might bring some relief, but it seemed to rekindle the throb, which had gone from a pulsing to an ache.