The Substitute

by Sean Ashcroft

  Zach chuckled. “I’m an only child of an only child, which I think is why my grandma is so protective of me. She’s only got the one grandson to be protective of.”

  “I like her,” Flynn said. “She was looking out for you, and for me, too. I know this is… inconvenient, but… she meant well.”

  “So far I’m not really feeling the inconvenience,” Zach admitted. Was it a little weird to marry a stranger? Sure. But it was working out well, and the stranger had turned out to be a sweetheart.

  He’d landed on his feet, as far as he was concerned.

  “Me neither,” Flynn admitted, fingers stroking the neck of his beer bottle. Zach was starting to get the impression that he was the kind of man who just… touched. Touched everything, all the time.

  Zach wanted that, too. He knew it was way too much to ask, and he knew Flynn was straight and wouldn’t be interested, but… he wanted it all the same.

  Which was fine. He’d just had his heart broken, and spending time with Flynn was stitching it back together neatly. Flynn wouldn’t break his heart, because he wasn’t interested in the first place.

  Zach could bask in his presence, and let it heal all the sore parts of him, and not worry that he’d get hurt all over again. As long as he remembered that they’d only ever be friends.

  Flynn, above all his other good qualities, was safe.

  Chapter Eleven

  Flynn shrugged the light jacket he’d brought with him off his shoulders, holding it out to Zach as they headed for the bus stop. He’d been shivering the whole way, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

  It wasn’t that cold, but Zach’s suffering had gotten to be too much for Flynn to handle.

  Zach paused, looking at the offered jacket, and then at Flynn’s face.

  “I’m not that cold,” he said, shivering again as if his body was just determined to prove him a liar.

  “I don’t need it, and you do,” Flynn said. “My walk home is maybe two minutes. You’re gonna be sitting on a bus freezing your butt off for half an hour.”

  “More like three-quarters,” Zach admitted, taking the offered jacket and pulling it around himself, sighing in contentment once he had it on. It was undoubtedly still warm from Flynn’s body, and the fact that it was at least two sizes too big for Zach probably made it feel like a cozy cocoon.

  “You’ve already done more than I can ever repay,” Zach said, falling into step beside Flynn again.

  “I don’t need repayment.” Flynn shrugged. “That’s not what this is about. You’re cold. I’m really not. I’m used to this weather. Whereas you’re a delicate desert flower.”

  Zach snorted. “I’m gonna pretend that was a compliment.”

  “Kinda was,” Flynn said. “I didn’t mean it as an insult, anyway.”

  “Just a statement of fact?” Zach asked, looking up at him. His eyes were sparkling with laughter in the low light of the street lamps, so Flynn figured he wasn’t actually insulted.

  “Pretty much.” Flynn smiled, stopping as they got to the little shelter at the stop and leaning against it. Zach hovered in front of him, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his borrowed jacket.

  “I'll have to get a car,” Flynn said, glancing down the street to see that there was no sign of the bus. They were alone at the stop, but it was a weird time on a Saturday night, so maybe it was just quiet.

  Zach blinked at him. “Why?”

  “So I can take you home instead of you having to take the bus,” Flynn said. “Obviously.”

  “Absolutely not,” Zach said, his eyes widening.

  Flynn chuckled. He was kidding.

  Mostly.

  Zach rolled his eyes. “It's not all that hard to believe that you’d do that for me,” he said. “For anyone, honestly. You're so… goddamn noble.”

  “I love the way you say that like it's a bad thing.”

  The jacket rustled as Zach shifted his weight, sighing heavily. “I just wonder sometimes if you ever think about what you want,” he said, looking up at the sky.

  “I want the people in my life to be happy,” Flynn said. “And you're one of the people in my life.”

  He hadn't actually thought about it in those terms before, but Zach wasn't exactly wrong. It was just what he did.

  Taking care of people was the most natural thing in the world for Flynn. Callie said that was because he was an older brother, and Flynn had no reason to argue with that.

  It was a good thing. The fact that people took advantage of it didn't mean it was something he needed to change.

  Zach hadn't taken advantage. Not once, not for a second.

  “You're incredible,” Zach said, his gaze dropping back down to meet Flynn's.

  Somewhere deep in his chest, Flynn’s heart fluttered. That was… new.

  He wanted to think it was unexpected, but it wasn't. Not really. He liked it when Zach complimented him, when Zach made it clear that he was content in Flynn’s presence.

  He liked… Zach.

  Which wasn't new, but also suddenly seemed just slightly different than it had.

  “Please don't get a car for the sake of being able to drop me home,” Zach said, pulling Flynn back out of his thoughts. “I couldn't live with it.”

  Flynn licked his lips, trying to catch the thread he was pretty sure he’d just been tugging on again.

  He liked Zach.

  “Okay, but… what if I wanted a car anyway, and that was just a side-effect?” he asked. “What if I had an early mid-life crisis and got a sports car? Then all the other boys would be jealous.”

  “No,” Zach said, but there was laughter in his voice, and his pretty brown eyes were sparkling.

  Being around him felt so damned good, and Flynn liked him, and he wanted…

  Wanted to kiss him.

  He wanted to reach out and tangle his fingers deep in Zach’s hair and hold him in place and…

  Before he’d made a conscious decision, Flynn reached out to Zach, cupping his cheek. His fingers slid back to the nape of Zach’s neck, and Zach wasn't saying no or pulling away, and Flynn’s heart was pounding in his chest.

  His stomach was tight, tight enough to hurt as he leaned in, but that didn't stop him from doing it. His lips crashed into Zach’s, and he could taste stale beer and salted peanuts and feel stubble under his fingers and he really didn't mind at all.

  Zach made a soft, needy noise into his mouth, and everything about this was perfect.

  The rush of warmth south eased the knots in his belly, a flood of pleasure washing over him. His brain was screaming finally, yes, keep doing this, and Flynn wanted to.

  He wanted to keep doing this.

  He wanted, he wanted…

  The gentle touch of Zach’s hand against his chest made him pull back, suddenly unsure.

  A lump formed in his throat, cold panic replacing the rush of warm pleasure. He’d misread things. Zach didn't want him.

  Hell, the guy had been in love with his brother, of course he didn't want Flynn.

  They were completely different people, family resemblance aside. And this was weird, and Flynn was supposed to be straight anyway, and…

  Flynn blinked at Zach, trying not to linger on his flushed cheeks or kiss-swollen lips.

  Before he could think of anything to say, the bus pulled up behind Zach.

  “I have to go,” he murmured, voice a little rough.

  Flynn didn't want him to go. That was the last thing he wanted.

  But he still couldn't think of anything to say, definitely not anything that seemed likely to get Zach to stick around, so he nodded instead.

  Nodded, and watched Zach turn away and climb onto the bus, blood pounding in his ears.

  Flynn stared after the tail lights, his head spinning and his stomach knotting up all over again.

  Shit.

  He’d kissed Zach.

  And he hadn't done it because he thought it was what Zach wanted, either. He’d done it because he wanted it, and he almo
st never did that, and he was quickly remembering why he didn't do that.

  Flynn wasn't the kind of man who got what he wanted. That was why he settled for getting other people what they wanted.

  And now Zach was gone, and he hadn't had time to explain himself, or apologize, and now…

  Now he might never get the chance. Zach could so easily just walk out of his life. The next time he heard from him could have been when he sent the divorce papers.

  Flynn swallowed, his throat tight.

  So much for thinking of himself for once.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zach threw himself on his bed the moment he was behind closed doors, kicking his shoes off and tugging his jeans open eagerly. A satisfied sigh escaped him as he shoved his hand into his underwear, gripping his already half-hard cock firmly, biting his lip at the borderline-painful pleasure of the first few strokes.

  He moaned, letting his eyes fall closed and biting his lip, thumbing the head of his cock as precome welled up there, spreading it down the length. The bus ride home had been agonizing and he needed this.

  Dammit. Why did Flynn have to kiss him? He was doing just fine keeping his feelings in check until then.

  The taste of Flynn’s mouth still lingered on his tongue, the bittersweetness of the beer he’d been drinking and the salt of his skin, searing hot and wonderful. He could have kissed Flynn all day, memorized every needy little sound he made, nipped at his lips and teased and teased until Flynn dragged him to the bedroom and had him make good on all the promises he could have whispered into his mouth.

  The low-burning embers of arousal that had been sitting heavy in Zach’s gut as he made the uncomfortable trip home flared up again at the thought, at the pause when he’d known Flynn was going to kiss him, but before they’d made contact, remembered anticipation making his belly tight with need all over again.

  He wanted Flynn to kiss him. Hell, he’d wanted that since the day they met, and he wanted it more every time he saw Flynn, but…

  Flynn wasn’t supposed to want him back! Flynn was supposed to be safely straight, someone Zach could have a crush on without it ever going anywhere. Someone to help his heart heal by being sweet and kind and utterly unavailable.

  Now they’d run right up to the edge of something else, and Zach wanted it, and he wasn’t ready to want it, but Flynn… Flynn was perfect, and he’d been so solid and warm against him, and Zach didn’t have the willpower not to enjoy this.

  It was too easy to imagine Flynn dragging him home and pressing him up against the wall, curious fingers sliding under Zach’s t-shirt, exploring the curves and crevasses of his body the way he explored a piece of pottery, neatly-trimmed nails scratching lightly at his skin.

  The scent of him, warm and masculine and exciting surrounding Zach as he leaned in, nuzzled his jaw, mapped out the shape with lips and tongue. Fumbling for his belt buckle, clumsy at first because he’d never had to open anyone else’s belt before, but enthusiastic, and careful, and thrilled when he got it.

  His eyes lighting up, sparkling in the low light, dark with arousal and so damned pretty Zach could have written sonnets about him if he was any good at that kind of thing.

  “Flynn,” he gasped as his barely-coherent fantasy progressed to Flynn’s hand being wrapped around his cock instead of his own, fingers gentle at first, unsure, feeling out the shape of him, then growing confident as he realized this was just like doing this for himself, like he had thousands of times.

  And Zach would moan and whimper and beg for more in his ear, against his throat, into his mouth, anywhere he could get at. He’d bite his lip and rock his hips and open Flynn’s pants in exchange, sigh at the heat and weight of him when he finally got them open and his fingers curled around him, sure strokes making a rumbling groan well up in Flynn’s chest straight away, Zach’s experience shining through, convincing Flynn this was a good idea.

  Flynn would leak precome into his hand, and rock against him, demanding more. For once, just once he’d ask for what he wanted, and Zach would give it to him.

  Tension pooled in Zach’s belly at the thought, the calluses on his fingers catching against the sensitive spot under the head of his cock. He pushed his pants down a little further and spread his legs, still wrapped up warmly in Flynn’s jacket, surrounded by his familiar scent.

  It wasn't as good as really having him there, but it was as close as Zach was going to get right now, and it was so easy to close his eyes and let himself imagine Flynn’s weight on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress, his cock hot and thick and perfect.

  He’d be so damned good in bed, generous and patient and eager to please, and Zach would let him. He’d let Flynn sink into him and rock against him and take his time because…

  Because, well, it hadn't been so long since he’d had sex, but it had been far too long since he’d been thoroughly, satisfyingly fucked.

  He bit his lip at the thought, hips rocking into his hand, precome spilling over his fingers, slicking the way. He was so close, and he could smell Flynn’s cologne on him, and remember the way he tasted and the heat of his body.

  Zach’s orgasm started at the base of his spine and shuddered its way down with the force of a tidal wave, leaving him arching off the bed. He groaned, low and long, the effort knocking the breath out of his lungs as he came all over his own hand in thick spurts.

  The thought of Flynn looking shocked and awed that he’d made another man come left Zach jerking his hips, spilling just a little more as aftershocks rippled through him.

  He collapsed into the mattress when he was finally done, his chest heaving with every breath.

  This wasn't how he’d expected his evening to go.

  Zach licked his lips, trying not to think about the way he could still taste the faintest hint of Flynn on them. Maybe he couldn't, maybe he was imagining it, but it was vivid if he was.

  The moment when he’d realized Flynn was about to kiss him replayed in his mind over and over, his stomach swooping the same way it had as Flynn’s hand made contact with his face every time.

  He wasn't going to get over the way that felt anytime soon.

  He’d need to get up in a minute, but right now, all he wanted to do was roll onto his side and imagine Flynn wrapping his arms around him and holding him close, making him feel safe, and loved, and wanted.

  The thing was, Flynn still was safe. Even with the power to break Zach’s heart, he wouldn’t do it. Not knowingly.

  Which made the real problem the fact that it was entirely possible that Flynn would never want to speak to him again. Kind and gentle and wonderful as he was, he could panic over this.

  He could panic, and that panic might leave him shoving whatever feelings had made him kiss Zach as deep down as they’d go, and pretend it had never happened. If he did that, he wouldn’t want a reminder around. Things would be awkward at best between them, and completely over at worst.

  Zach sighed.

  It definitely wasn’t going to help that he’d run away, either. Maybe Flynn had been relieved, but maybe he’d been hurt, and Zach wasn’t sure what to do now.

  The urge to text him and tell him that he’d been surprised and confused, but not upset, was overwhelming.

  On the other hand, that meant revealing that he wasn’t upset, that he was thrilled by the idea of trading up to the kinder, hotter brother, and what kind of monster did that make him, anyway?

  Why would Flynn even be interested in someone his brother had unceremoniously discarded the night before their wedding? Rushed as it was, Zach had been convinced that it was really what Aiden wanted.

  So his judgement in relation to that particular family was obviously a little off.

  An unhappy sound welled up in Zach’s chest, his stomach knotting up now that the initial rush of lust had been taken care of. What if he lost Flynn? Flynn, who’d quickly taken a place as one of the best parts of his life, who’d taken care of him, who…

  Well, Zach didn’t exactly ne
ed him, but it would have been nice to keep him all the same. Not just because it’d save having to answer uncomfortable questions from his grandma, either.

  He liked the way Flynn smiled. He liked the way he laughed.

  He liked Flynn, and liked being around him, and the thought of losing that made his stomach turn. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, because Flynn would feel how he felt no matter what Zach did or said, and he had no idea how that was.

  He was so screwed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The smell of hot chocolate hit Flynn’s nostrils before he actually realized Callie was making it, which said everything he needed to know about his current emotional state. He was barely aware of his surroundings, too far in his own head to pay attention to much else.

  At least Callie was here. She’d come faster than Flynn had expected, and he was ridiculously lucky to have a friend like her, and as much as he hated to lean on anyone… he needed this.

  For once in his life, he was okay with accepting some help.

  “Cures all ills,” Callie said as she set a mug down in front of Flynn.

  Flynn wrapped his hands around it, sighing heavily. Probably not all ills, but it’d make him feel better. Callie’s hot chocolates, specifically, always did.

  Her secret was adding extra sugar, but Flynn pretended he didn’t know that. If he didn’t see it happen, it didn’t count.

  They sat in silence for a few long moments, Callie giving Flynn the time to gather his thoughts like she always did.

  “Been cold the last few nights,” he said, not quite ready to broach the subject he needed to talk about.

  “Summer in Boston.” Callie shrugged. “At least it’s sunny during the day.”

  Flynn snorted. “Sunny’s kind of a generous description. It was clear and cloudless in Vegas, remember?”

  Yeah, okay. He could approach this topic sideways, mentally ambush it and take it by surprise so that he was talking about Zach out loud before he actually had to admit to… everything.