by River Jaymes
“Of course there’ll be touching.” He met Dylan’s amused gaze. “You’re just not dirty enough yet.”
Alec grabbed the can, pried off the plastic lid, and scooped a small amount of the amber-colored goo in his fingers. The humor in Dylan’s eyes died, turning to pure lust.
“Jesus, Alec. That’s hot.” He blinked. “But I’m, um, not sure that’s safe to use as lube.”
“I’m not going to,” Alec said. “In fact, we won’t need lube at all.”
The flash of confusion in Dylan’s eyes almost did Alec in. Dylan looked…lost, most likely thrown by the thought of anything other than anal or a hand job. Oddly enough, that made Alec’s heart hurt the most.
All this time he’d assumed Dylan’s no-holds-barred sexual energy stemmed from his research of top versus bottom. He’d never considered Dylan might be unable to comprehend anything less frenzied and more personal, more intimate. His private life was as stark as the apartment he lived in.
Concentrating on the endless expanse of naked skin, Alec placed his slick palms on Dylan’s shoulders. He slowly slid them toward Dylan’s outstretched hands, enjoying the peaks and valleys of sinew and muscle, leaving streaks of grease trailing behind.
Perfect.
“The length of the spread arms is roughly equal to the height of a man,” Alec recited.
He skimmed his fingers back to the shoulder blades and then traced circles around each vertebral body as he headed down Dylan’s back.
Alec slid his palms around Dylan’s torso toward the front, leaning close to murmur in Dylan’s ear. “According to Da Vinci, in your current position”—Alec splayed his hands low across Dylan’s stomach, his thumbs dipping into Dylan’s belly button—“the center of the extended limbs will be the navel.”
Alec grinned at the sight of Dylan’s pulse pounding at his neck and the goose bumps popping up along his arms. After rubbing axle grease over Dylan’s washboard abdominal muscles, tracing every narrow groove, Alec made his way down the front of Dylan’s thighs, slowly dragging his thumbs along the thatch of hair at Dylan’s groin, close to his cock.
“And creates a space between the legs consistent with an equilateral triangle,” Alec finished.
“This is the messiest, geekiest kink ever.” Dylan’s voice held a hint of awe. “Why the hell is this a total turn-on?”
Alec squeezed Dylan’s hard quadriceps. “Because I’m making you wait.”
“I’m not much for patience.”
“I’ve noticed.” Alec skimmed his fingertips across the top of Dylan’s crack.
Dylan sucked in a breath, and his muscles grew taut. Alec’s dick attempted to punch through his pants to hurry the process along. He pulled open his fly to provide a little relief from the pressure, and the sound of the zipper triggered a hungry look on Dylan’s face. A shot of adrenalin left Alec’s fingers fumbling as he freed his cock, fighting to maintain control. He hadn’t waited this long only to give up on his goals now.
No matter how aroused.
With Dylan’s widened stance, they were almost the same size. Alec slotted his erection along the length of Dylan’s ass, the head now just above the top of Dylan’s cleft. Dylan groaned and tipped his hips back, embedding Alec deeper between the cheeks. A pulse of hot pleasure shot from Alec’s cock outward, and his stomach muscles tensed.
“Remember.” Alec managed to keep his voice firm. “You’re not allowed to move.”
“Who knew you were such a tease?”
“Who’s teasing? This is serious.”
Alec began to thrust his hips, slowly sliding his cock along Dylan’s crack. Sweat slicked the way, and Dylan’s hard ass provided incredible friction. Alec’s erection brushed by the puckered hole hidden beneath, up and down, and he longed to pop through that tight ring of muscle. Dylan began to pant, his breathing labored even as the rest of his body remained still, buttocks in just the right position. Alec gritted his teeth, wanting…
He pressed his mouth against Dylan’s hot, salty skin. “The root of the penis is at half the height of man,” Alec murmured.
“Da Vinci measured that?”
“Yes.”
“If he wasn’t gay”—the underside of Alec’s shaft directly skimmed Dylan’s hole, and Dylan groaned, his ass relaxing as if in submission—“he should have been.”
As he continued to thrust, pleasure gripped Alec. Sparks flickered before his eyes and his balls grew tight. He dug his fingers into Dylan’s hips, no doubt leaving bruises as he fought the need to grasp Dylan’s shoulders and plant himself deep inside, lack of condom be damned.
Dear God, what the hell was he thinking?
Alec forced himself to focus and take a step back.
Dylan’s head whipped around. “Wait,” Dylan said, pupils dilated. “Where the heck are you going? You gotta do something.”
Ignoring his thumping pulse, Alec pried Dylan’s fingers from the rack, turned him so he faced Alec, and then repositioned Dylan’s grip on the shelf. “I am.” He used his foot to fix Dylan’s stance.
Dylan spread eagle while facing Alec was worlds better because Dylan’s hard cock curved and strained upward, precum gleaming at the tip.
“Preferably something more.” Dylan’s voice sounded strained.
Alec began to regain a bit of control. “According to Da Vinci, the distance from below the knee to the root of the penis is one quarter of a man’s height.”
“Dude was totally gay.”
“If he wasn’t,” Alec said, repeating Dylan’s earlier words, “he should have been.”
Dylan let out a harsh laugh until Alec palmed Dylan’s ass and dropped to his knees. Alec concentrated on keeping his gaze on Dylan’s hip so he wouldn’t get distracted. He cupped the back of Dylan’s legs.
“Jesus,” Dylan rasped out.
No doubt Dylan thought he had a blowjob in store, and Alec certainly craved the taste of the bead of precum at Dylan’s slit. Instead, he kissed his way up the hard thigh, careful to avoid the axle-grease-covered spots. He stood, mouth continuing higher until he reached his neck, kneading Dylan’s butt the entire way. But, still, Alec kept a decent amount of space between their hips. He licked the pounding pulse at Dylan’s throat as he traced his hands up Dylan’s flanks, across his shoulders, and along his biceps.
“For someone so caught up in measurements and distance”—Dylan’s voice sounded strained—“you seem to be headed in the wrong direction.”
Alec dropped his hand to brush his fingers along the coarse hair at Dylan’s groin, and the man let out a hiss. Dylan’s cock, hard and blood red, curved upward, as if in a silent scream for Alec’s attention.
“Touching me now would be good,” Dylan said, his voice raw. “Two minutes ago would’ve been great.”
Alec lazily drew circles on Dylan’s abdomen, tracing the muscles.
“Jesus, Alec.” Dylan rasped out. “Are you trying to kill me here?”
In response, Alec gripped the juncture between Dylan’s ass and his legs and pulled him close, slotting his dick in the natural groove alongside Dylan’s. Alec began to rock his hips and closed his eyes with a groan relief.
“Can I move now?” Dylan said.
“Yes, you may.”
“Finally,” Dylan growled, and he eagerly joined in on the rhythm.
The sweet, sweet friction of two hard cocks was almost too much, and Alec scraped his teeth across a nipple. Dylan arched his back, mouth slack, silently thrusting his hips. Although his body screamed to finish, Alec refused to hurry.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Alec murmured.
“To fuck against a tool shelf?”
Alec kissed Dylan hard, tasting him with his tongue before answering. “No.”
“To smear me with axle grease?”
“Take the initiative.”
After another hungry kiss bordering on a bite, Alec rocked his hips faster. Precum joined the sweat and grease on Dylan’s stomach, and the hem of Alec’s shirt grew damp.<
br />
“Seriously,” Dylan moaned, “I thought you’d never put the moves on me.”
Stunned, Alec drew his head back to stare at Dylan.
“You’ve been waiting for me to?” Alec said.
“Hell, yeah.” Dylan frowned and leaned in, going for Alec’s lips. “Now, can we—”
Aleck blocked Dylan’s attempt to kiss him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I thought…”
A flash of emotion came and went in Dylan’s eyes, something resembling a vulnerable look.
“I thought maybe you didn’t want me as much as I wanted you,” Dylan said.
Alec didn’t know whether to let out a hysterical laugh or a scream of frustration. He chose to press his lips to Dylan’s shoulder, cutting off both.
Dylan said, “Maybe—”
Need shivered through Alec, and he bit Dylan.
Voice hoarse, Dylan went on. “Maybe we should work on our communication skills.”
Holy Mother of God, yes.
Desperate, Alec increased the force of his thrusts. The sound of skin slicking against skin filled the air, and tools rattled as the steel shelves rocked slightly against the wall. A wrench, or a screwdriver—Alec wasn’t sure which—hit the floor with a thunk and rolled across the concrete.
Cheeks ruddy, lids at half-mast, Dylan looked sucked up in a sexual vortex. His forearms strained against their self-imposed confinement, knuckles white against the steel rack. His thighs trembled as he met Alec’s hips with thrusts of his own. Alec nipped along Dylan’s jaw before moving down to his throat.
Damn, he wanted to drag this moment out forever. Despite the crushing need to finish, he hoped to delay the inevitable. When would he get Dylan naked in his garage again? When would he have the chance to enjoy the sight of Dylan slick and filthy and covered in a day’s worth of grease?
Alec whimpered. With another hard thrust and no warning, he came, his cum shooting upward and coating Dylan’s skin. Alec fought the post-orgasmic stupor and opened his eyes. Dylan was biting his lip, his hips moving desperately against Alec.
Christ. He’d never tire of the dazed look on Dylan’s face and that beautiful body spread before him, streaked with the evidence of his orgasm. Large, white drops clung to Dylan’s pectoral muscle. Inspired by the sight, Alec leaned in and sucked a salty splotch into his mouth. Dylan moaned and twisted his fingers on the shelf rack, arching his back.
Lips slick with cum, Alec threaded his fingers through Dylan’s hair. This would either go well…or crash and burn.
“Kiss me,” Alec said.
Dylan stared at Alec’s mouth, hesitating for two beats. Alec was just about to tell him not to bother when Dylan leaned close and took a tentative taste. His tongue touched Alec’s bottom lip experimentally, and a hot jolt shot through Alec, frying his nervous system.
Ridiculous really, after all they’d done to date.
Another split second passed, their breath clashing as Dylan continued to grind his cock against Alec. And then Dylan rubbed his mouth against Alec’s, smearing the cum before sucking some from the lower lip. With a groan, he pressed Alec’s lips open and proceeded to lick Alec’s mouth clean.
The taste must have pushed Dylan over the edge, his moan of relief filling the garage as he pulled Alec’s torso against his own and came. Alec gripped Dylan’s hips, guiding the now jerky movements as hot, thick liquid pulsed between them. When Dylan’s body finally grew quiet, Alec kissed Dylan’s jaw for good measure.
“Goddamn,” Dylan said, lids closed and chest heaving. “You should take the initiative more often.”
When Alec didn’t respond, Dylan opened his eyes. Alec pressed their mouths together but kept his gaze on Dylan, enjoying the heavy-lidded, sated look while waiting for Dylan to recover. Or at least be present enough to hear what Alec had to say.
“From here on out”—Alec tightened his grip on Dylan—“every once in a while, I want to slow down and not be the rabbits strung out on Viagra, okay?”
“What can I say? I tend to chug my beer too.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I’m definitely a fan. But sometimes I like to sip my wine and savor the flavor. And…” Alec attempted to relay the importance of his words with his gaze, afraid to hear Dylan’s response. “And I get to touch you whenever I want. Even if it isn’t for sex.”
Dylan narrowed his lids, as if he couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to do such a thing. His green eyes grew serious as he pursed his lips in thought.
“Just not in public, okay?” Dylan grimaced. “I don’t care who you’re fucking, guys, girls, or friggin’ aliens, that shit should be kept private. Otherwise, I’m fine with the idea.”
Relieved, Alec nodded in agreement as he absently rubbed a smudge that had wound up on Dylan’s cheek. Dylan reached back and grabbed the can of grease from the shelf, handing the container to Alec.
Eyes lit with humor, Dylan said, “We need to find out if this stuff is safe to use for lube during a jack-off session.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“Call the poison control center?” Dylan suggested with a shrug.
Alec’s lips twitched. “I am so not making that call.”
~~~***~~~
One Week Later
From his sky-box seat on the fifty yard line, Dylan leaned back in his comfy leather chair, feeling out of sorts and wondering why the hell Jack Davis came to the Tigers’ football game if he preferred to chat with his guests. Enclosed in glass, the air-conditioned room comfortably held two dozen people and protected them from the elements—or, as Dylan suspected, from the unwashed masses busy screaming for their team. Three big screen TVs hung on the surrounding walls and broadcasted the game, just in case anybody wanted to actually watch the activity taking place on the field below.
Noah utilized his time working the crowd of rich guests as they enjoyed the hospitality of the even richer Jack Davis. Most likely Noah intended to secure more donations for the Front Street Housing Fund. Dylan was watching the game, enjoying a mug of beer and a plate of cheese sticks with marinara sauce. Alec sat to Dylan’s left, talking to Tyler.
His ex-boyfriend.
Dylan wrestled the resentful frown into submission as he watched the two from the corner of his eye, hoping his overly attentive scrutiny managed to go unnoticed. But he could barely spell discreet, much less pull the act off.
A hand clapped his shoulder from behind, and Dylan tensed as if punched.
Busted.
Palm on Dylan’s back, Noah leaned in to address Tyler and Alec. “Tell me again who I’m supposed to be rooting for, the blue guys or the red?”
Dylan let out a silent breath. “Jesus, Noah.” Dylan forced his muscles to relax, grateful the overwhelming task of keeping two teams straight had rendered his sharp-eyed friend unusually oblivious to the subject of Dylan’s scrutiny. “The ones with the Tigers on their helmets.”
Despite the first-class environment of the sky box, Dylan preferred Danny’s Suds and Sports for watching football games. Since the start of football season, he and Alec had fallen into the habit of spending one night a week at the sports bar watching the game. On the other nights, Alec cooked, and Dylan cleaned up.
Dylan had existed on takeout for more years than he could remember. As far as he was concerned, the food pyramid should be constructed of Styrofoam containers. Lately, though, Dylan had grown fond of a home-cooked meal. He also preferred the comfort of Alec’s house, which had excellent food and Alec for company. The cooking process provided a whole new variety of ways for Dylan to get his hands on the man while he couldn’t defend himself. Better yet, groping was not only welcome it was actively encouraged. And so what if the touching sometimes held zero sexual intent? Dylan was learning to be okay with that too.
But, right now, what thrilled Dylan the most about their time at home was the absence of Alec’s ex.
“Tigers? Is that what’s pictured on their helmets?” Noah s
quinted at one of the TVs on the far wall. “No wonder they lose. The cute little cartoon tiger is hardly a kick-ass kind of image.”
Tyler smiled, Alec laughed, and Dylan knew he should too.
He just…couldn’t.
“Tell me again why we’re here?” Dylan asked. “You don’t even like football, Noah.”
“I will always be in favor of a sport with men called eligible receivers or tight ends. Especially when a play involves those men piling on top of one another.” He swiped a lock of brown hair from his forehead. “Though the Catholic in me objects to the term Hail Mary pass.”
Alec stared at Noah as if seeing him in a new light. “You’re Catholic?”
Tyler tossed his ex a look. “Only when the label suits him, which—”
“Is never,” Alec said, completing the thought.
Damn, bad enough the two had decided to become friends again, but did they really need to finish each other’s sentences? Frowning, Dylan concentrated on the football players crashing into each other below.
After two years together— Shit, Tyler and Alec had lived together for two years.
Dylan had never been bothered by that fact before. Why now? Most likely the whole tag-team conversation thing represented a habit more than anything else. But still…
Feeling cranky sucked, and Dylan knew he was being an unreasonable bastard. Technically, he and Alec weren’t even dating. They were just…two friends enjoying some primo benefits.
Dylan chose not to hurt himself dwelling on the thought for long.
Instead, he pretended to be interested in the cheerleaders down below. Women in unbelievable short shorts and what could only generously be called tank tops, doing intriguingly bendy things. He appreciated the view. That definitely hadn’t changed. He just wished he could work up a little more enthusiasm for following through.
“All of this is fascinating,” Dylan said dryly. “But how did we wind up here?”
Noah dropped into the seat beside Dylan. “A shameless bribe by Jack Davis. Of course, what he really wants is to capitalize on the award Tyler and Alec are set to receive next weekend.”
“I meant to ask you earlier,” Tyler said to Alec. “Are your parents coming to the ceremony?”