Ex-Daredevil

by Zoe Lee

  “Guess I better start thinking about my final Boring Date,” I laughed, pulling him back in against my chest so we could keep snuggling and watching TV until he had to go.

  When it was finally time for Gavin’s final Daring Date, I was actually excited about it. The last month had been busy for both of us. His job was changing and he had to learn new things, and I’d taken on a few new tough cases. So we hadn’t gotten to spend quite as much time together, but I still felt like we were in a great place, and he’d made up for canceling nights by sending me dick pics, one of the kinks we hadn’t explored yet.

  I got to the United Center, one of Chicago’s stadiums, and the giant signs let me know exactly what we were doing tonight, although I wasn’t sure how it was a dare. Snorting, I went to Will Call and got my ticket, then made my way inside and to my front-row seat.

  Gavin was waiting for me and the first thing I said was, “You really had to scrape the bottom of the barrel for your last Daring Date, huh, Gavin? I’m kind of disappointed.”

  “A rock concert in a stadium that holds over twenty thousand people is a dare!” he exclaimed in outrage. When I reached for one of the popcorn bags he was carrying, he jerked it back and snapped peevishly, “Unappreciative boyfriends don’t get snacks!”

  Grinning, I darted in and snagged one of the backstage passes from around his neck, putting it on before he could do more than huff, realizing he didn’t have a free hand to stop me. “I’m not unappreciative of anything, babe,” I laughed, “I’m just saying, front row seats and a backstage pass to Barnyard isn’t daring. Maybe it would be if I’d never met them, but Barley’s my client and I do remember a certain party with the band and the whole entourage. And I hardly think braving a lot of noise is a dare on par with riding your bike.”

  That had him sputtering before he retorted, “That’s—just being here isn’t the dare!”

  “No?” I asked cockily.

  “As if!”

  “You’re slipping, sweetheart,” I stated, pretending to be mournful about it.

  He glared at me for a long few seconds, but then his face split into a huge smile and he cackled, making everyone around us look over and smile too, his happiness infectious.

  Luckily he didn’t seem to have to work during concerts, so he was able to stay with me. We munched on popcorn while he told me about all of the preparation that went into a concert like this. I listened intently. Asher had been a musician for as long as I’d known him, but in smaller-time local acts. Nothing like the madness of one of the biggest bands on the planet. He’d never strived for this, though, and as I listened, I thought it was a great atmosphere for Gavin to work in, but couldn’t imagine Asher in this world.

  When the opening act came on, the lights changed and it seemed like all twenty thousand-plus people, except me, screamed at the top of their lungs, and then never stopped, somehow doubling the volume and enthusiasm when Barnyard came on. It was overwhelming. The music was louder and more passionate and clever than I’d ever given modern rock any credit for, and I could barely tear my eyes off Gavin as he jumped and sang. How was it possible that he still had such joy for the music when he must hear it day in and day out, when he’d seen these world-famous men in a thousand mundane scenarios?

  I’d completely forgotten about his As if by the time he turned to me while the stadium clapped, rhythm slowly increasing, as they shouted for an encore. “So, baby,” he shouted in my ear. “There’s a tradition with Barnyard encores. I don’t suppose you know it?”

  “You must know I don’t,” I shouted back.

  “You gotta strip to your undies,” he informed me, already following his own order.

  Practically aghast, I looked around in horror. To my shock, everyone was doing the same thing—men down to hairy chests and women down to bras of every kind.

  For a second, I could only appreciate the mostly-naked variety of skin tones and body types around me, and the carefree, judgment-free loyalty to Barnyard that it demonstrated.

  But then self-consciousness took over and I shook my head.

  “It’s crucial to the whole experience.” Gavin waved his arms around at everyone, his braid swinging where it was looped over the crook of one elbow. “And it’s the actual dare!”

  It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my body. I took good care of it and I never thought twice at the gym or when I dove into Barley’s pool surrounded by virtual strangers. But that fit in a context I understood, while this… did not. I wasn’t someone who jumped up and down and lost his mind, or someone who joined in silly, fun traditions. I wasn’t someone who could be free like that, live in the moment and feel the euphoria of it all.

  I chewed on my lip and shook my head again. “I love your spontaneity, but it’s not me,” I forced out. His purple eyes were big and dark on me, his head tilting as he listened. “I’m passionate about things, but I’ve never shouted or taken my clothes off to demonstrate it.”

  He dragged one finger down my torso while the crowd went crazy, exploding as the band came back on for the inevitable encore. “I’m the only one who’s going to look at you.”

  Then I realized, I was thinking too hard. This was nothing but a dare—he knew I didn’t do stupid, pointless things and he wanted to see me do it just because he’d dared me to. I could see it suddenly in the smile he broke out, the one I’d thought was so vexing when we first met, his eyes glittering and his mouth twisted up in challenge, toying with me.

  “For the record, this is stupid,” I said, and took off my damn shirt and pants.

  His eyes crinkled a little as he smiled, almost elegant, and I had a flash of what he’d look like in ten, twenty, and thirty years as those elegant lines deepend and flared out.

  “I’d only do this for you.”

  I wasn’t sure he’d heard me until he hugged me hard, so hard, one hand cradling the back of my head and shoving it into his neck, which smelled so damn magically good.

  I felt his neck shake with words, but they were lost in the insane volume of Barnyard and the audience as the last chords wailed out of guitars and the last notes wailed out of Barley’s powerful lungs.

  Closing my eyes, I held onto him and whispered, “I love you so much.”

  My feelings had been flourishing from the very second I’d first seen him, but it had felt so natural and so unalterable that for once I hadn’t overthought it. But lately I’d been thinking about it more often, and saying it, even though I knew he hadn’t heard it, was like a sledgehammer to my heart. My love for him was so simple, so masterful, a perfect arrangement of compatibility, mutual desire, and matching cleverness and humor.

  This love was real and mine and fucking beautiful, when I stripped it down to basics. It was a steady warmth that enveloped me, not too hot or tight so I felt threatened by it.

  Eyes stinging, I stayed right there through the final rounds of applause, Barnyard exiting the stage, and the crowd emptying out, Gavin’s hold on me never slackening.

  Once it was just us, security, and the cleanup crew, he let me go and then gasped and cried out, “Eliott! I can’t believe you got me naked in public! Isn’t that illegal? Get dressed!”

  Any other time, I would’ve griped at him. But now, with my love for him so strong once I’d let myself fully feel it, I only laughed brightly as we put our shirts and pants back on.

  He scooped up our coats and led me out of the stadium. “For a second I thought you weren’t going to strip. The way you show your passion may involve less spontaneous nudity—sometimes, depending on the passion,” he interrupted himself to clarify, tossing a flirtatious as hell look over his shoulder. “It wasn’t meant to make you philosophical.”

  “Just meant to get me out of most of my clothes?”

  “Out of your head a little, at the very least,” he teased, his voice light but his eyes knowing as he pinned me against some random stretch of wall by the hips. “That hug was almost as good. The consequence of not doing the dare right away, though… Dire. I�
��m going to enjoy this so much. You think you want me to take your ass? Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to take it so slow, then so hard and deep, you’ll want to die before I let you come.”

  Hissing, I tried to contain my arousal by digging the heel of one palm into my cock.

  But Gavin snatched my hand away, replacing it with one of his slimmer thighs, the pressure light and exquisite and sheer torture. “But first, you’ll have to walk through the backstage area and congratulate Barley and the others on the great show. Hard as a rock.”

  That right there was why I loved Gavin Sycamore. Challenge and compromise. Sweet and torturous. Dare and guarantee. I couldn’t resist a single facet of him, I never wanted to.

  “Yeah? Your boss is going to see how big my cock is,” I taunted him.

  My heart began racing gleefully when his eyes lit up. “Well your boss is going to ask you why you’re limping on Monday at work, so who gives a shit what Barley sees?”

  Chapter 33

  Gavin

  Eliott’s thought spirals—what I called it when he had to figure out how he felt, how he thought I felt about how he felt, and so on, spiraling out infinitely—were one of my favorite things about him. It was an expression of his thoughtfulness and how quickly his brain could work through so many possibilities. And I loved how at the end of every spiral he stayed true to himself, steady and sure. Even if he also got a little apologetic.

  I hadn’t expected my dare for him to strip down to cause one.

  But for some reason, the way he’d looked at me when he shook his head no the second time, but then did it anyway, cracked open my heart. I had been so, so unprepared for the flood of emotions, heightened by the ecstatic energy of Barnyard and the audience surrounding us. He’d looked so delicate, as if he thought he was letting me down. As if there was something wrong with expressing his joy or happiness quietly and subtly instead of loudly and publicly.

  I’d clutched him so hard I expected a protest, telling him he was perfect just the way he was, that I was sorry I’d made it seem like such a big deal instead of just a dare to do something foolish. Then, once the stadium was eerily quiet after the bombardment of the concert, I’d flirted and he’d flirted back, and everything burst into full bloom inside of me.

  It was torture to watch him—his bulge definitely bigger than when he wasn’t horny—follow my instructions and speak with each band member. He wasn’t even stingy, only saying congratulations and telling them it was a great show. No, he lingered. No doubt to drive me batshit insane. He recited his favorite lyric of Barley’s to him. He asked about things he’d heard about at Barley’s pool party, making each band member in turn smile and thank him earnestly as they answered him and chatted about whatever.

  While Eliott ate one of the tour manager’s cupcakes, Barley moseyed over.

  “Hey, kid,” he said in the quietest volume I’d ever heard.

  I jerked my head up in surprise. “Did you hurt your voice?” I demanded in concern.

  “My voice is fine, I’m just trying to be stealthy,” he assured me.

  Screwing up my face, I asked, “Why? Just trying something new?”

  “Me and the guys have been talkin’ and we think you’ve been doing a great job, kid,” he said, and it was so serious and sincere, he could have knocked me over with a feather. “You have a real knack for this business and since you’re not coming on tour with us, I want you to spend time working with our manager and the PR folks. There’s a lot to learn and once you do, we can expand your role from PA to something bigger and better than making sure my cranky ass is up on time, wearing the right thing, going to the right place.”

  My mouth fell open wide enough to catch flies as I sputtered.

  Barley clapped my back with his ham hand and boomed out his regular laugh. “It’s like you’ve never gotten a compliment. You think I hired you without getting a buttload of great recommendations from your old bosses? Everyone you’ve worked with on the job so far has had nothing but fantastic things to say about you. C’mon, kid, I ain’t dumb.”

  “Right, sure,” I said faintly to his back as he moseyed off again.

  “Hey,” Eliott said, coming over while sucking frosting off his thumb. “You ready?”

  Barley’s impromptu performance review and career development opportunity were far too big for me to even begin to tackle. It was one in the morning and I had this gorgeous man, whom I’d promised a phenomenal fuck, so I tucked it away for later and grinned.

  “You bet your ass I am,” I claimed with a leer, then we rushed off, detouring to the bathroom before we hopped in our ride out front of the stadium and went to his house.

  The second we were inside, Eliott slammed me up against his front door, rattling it in its frame, and took my mouth, the kisses breathless and deep, searching and possessive.

  I wrestled him up one stair and then the next, my neck cricked and straining as I fought to keep our lips touching, tearing off his clothes and mine as we ascended. He got an arm just under my ass, enough to half-haul, half-drag me through his living room, my hip ricocheting painfully off the back of his couch. In the short hallway, I kicked off my shoes and tripped to my knees, taking the opportunity to shove down his boxer briefs and lick the wet tip of his cock. Above me I heard his head crack against the wall as he swore.

  “I don’t have any lube stashed magically in the hallway,” he pointed out, strangled.

  “None tucked in one of those fancy sconces?” I teased, garbled by his cockhead.

  “You idiot,” he laughed happily, managing to catch me under the armpits and haul me up. We twirled through the door and into his bedroom, our feet tangling so we nearly fell with each half-turn. Hooking an ankle behind my knee, he took me down to the bed, the comforter whooshing and puffing up a little around the outline of my body in welcome.

  We made out, rolling around to switch who was on top, until he shuddered hard.

  Taking it as a sign that he was ready to get down to it, I gave his ass one satisfying smack and when he collapsed face-first with a cry, I scrambled for the lube and a condom.

  Then I set about fulfilling my boasts about how well I was going to fuck him.

  I had meant to spin this out, use long, sure strokes inside him, then urge him to jerk himself off when our orgasms finally started to peak. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to be able to truly test his patience and take him apart all night long, because he’d split my heart right open at the concert and I was desperate to show him, since I had no idea how to say it.

  So I did my best as I swirled my tongue around his cock like it was a melting ice cream cone and stretched him on my fingers. He held his thighs wide around my shoulders, trembling from the effort of accepting his due. When he was a twitching mess, groaning softly every time my mouth popped off his cock and my fingers grazed his prostate, I eased back.

  He looked up at me, his green eyes beseeching and wide as his fingers strangled the corners of the pillow underneath his ass.

  “I got you,” I reassured him, probably too fierce and intense, shuffling into place while I coated the condom with a sloppy amount of lube, nerves zipping from my own touch.

  “Can’t wait—” he began.

  Circling the base of my cock, I aimed it at his hole, dipping into the relaxed muscle, torturing us both until he made a noise I couldn’t ignore, and I sank into him inch by inch.

  It was excruciating, the heat and the way he rippled around me, hoarse mewls pouring out as his head thrashed on the sheet and the muscles in his chest and arms popped. His ankles locked across the top of my ass, his hands flying up to knead my trapezius muscles, and his handsome face contorted in pleasure before his entire body went utterly lax. It was as if, the second I was all of the way inside of him, barely rocking without thrusting at all, he had everything he needed and he could relax, trusting me to take it from there.

  “There we go,” I whispered, feeling like I was the one who was so full.

  I was as deep as I
could be, and his arms and legs were encircling me, showing me I was so very welcome right where I was. He was so goddamn perfect, his eyelashes fluttering and quiet, breathless mmhmms filling the air.

  There was nothing to prove, I realized suddenly; this wasn’t about my skills or my ability to hold out and make it last and last until we couldn’t take it.

  All Eliott Navarre wanted was me, and he had me.

  All I had to do was kiss him and kiss him while I undulated my hips, staying deep with the flare of my cockhead tagging his prostate. All he had to do was kiss me back and make those nearly inaudible exhalations of pleasure and hold me tight. All it was really about was our bodies joining, all of our pieces interlocking until we were complete—but it also had nothing to do with our bodies, just a way to express a truth I wasn’t ready to speak yet.

  So when he gasped and jolted to press our torsos tight, I was shocked. I had been in like a trance and it was shocking to slam back into my body, where Eliott was now rabbiting his cock against my stomach. Before I could do anything, his entire body started to convulse and he sprayed come up my stomach and chest, croaking out, “Gavin—fill me up, baby.”

  Almost sobbing, my orgasm burst out of me, so visceral and long it seemed like the condom would rip and give him just what he’d asked for by the sheer force of his willpower.

  “Thank you, oh, God,” I dimly heard him say, and then I might have blacked out.

  Chapter 34

  Eliott

  The next week was odd.

  I saw Gavin every day, and he was insatiable, sometimes bordering on desperate.

  One night he egged me on, insinuating I didn’t have the stamina or strength to hold him and fuck him against the wall. Another he edged me for hours, stroking his fingertips up and down my cock while we argued about the best and worst superheroes and superpowers. Yet another he tied himself to my headboard wearing a rubber cock ring and dared me to ride him until he was a sobbing mess, jolting through a few dry orgasms. Last night we tried mutual masturbation while he spoke graphically, me in my reading chair and him on the bed to add a touch of voyeurism.