Devon Cream

by Jet Mykles

  WARNING

  This story is intended for adults only as defined by the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your e-Books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

  Devon Cream

  Copyright © February 2009 Jet Mykles

  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

  Aspen Mountain Press

  PO Box 473543

  Aurora CO 80047-3543

  www.AspenMountainPress.com

  First published by Aspen Mountain Press, February 2009

  www.AspenMountainPress.com

  This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-60168-188-1

  Published in the United States of America

  Editor: Raven McKnight

  Cover artist: Celia Kyle

  Devon Cream

  Jet Mykles

  Aspen Mountain Press

  Chapter One

  Crash!

  The spoon in Steven’s hand slipped from his fingers, clattering to the table and spattering alfredo sauce. “What the...?”

  “Watch it.” Patty stood, hands out to steady the pot in his hands.

  Setting the pot down, he dropped the potholder beside it and rushed to the front door toward the sound, trusting Patty to clean up the small mess behind him.

  Opening the door, he nearly stumbled over a basketball that came rolling into his apartment. Instinctively picking it up, he stuck his head out into the hallway to see where it had come from. To his left, the staircase leading up to the four studio apartments on the floor above his was strewn with personal effects, including a photo album that had spilled dozens of loose photographs over the worn cement slats. At the bottom of the stairs, a man with short, dark hair, dressed in a blue t-shirt and knee-length cut-off shorts, knelt over what looked to be a shattered glass object, muttering as he carefully picked up pieces.

  “Hey.” Steven stepped into the hall, tucking the basketball underneath his arm. “You need help with that?”

  The man looked up, and Steven was stunned to behold the face of an angel. Okay, maybe not an angel, but a damned beautiful male specimen, just the same. The hair was deep chestnut, cut short around his ears, mostly straight and glossy but with a little bit of a curl at the ends. A stray curl of said hair brushed dark, heavy brows that shielded the biggest, most amazing brown eyes Steven had ever seen, ringed with ridiculously long black lashes. A scattering of faint freckles dotted a patrician nose with a tip that listed slightly to the left, both it and the cheekbones sloping down toward a generous, kissable mouth perched right atop a small brown poet’s beard. That mouth was currently dropped open in surprise. The eyes were almost as wide as the mouth, and two telltale tears tracked down smooth cheeks the color of dark butterscotch.

  Caught looking, Steven couldn’t help but take another step forward.

  His movement seemed to break the immobility of the younger man. Quickly, he shook his head. “Uh, no. Uh, thanks.” He turned to look down at the glass at his feet, quickly swiping a sleeve over his cheek. “No, I, uh...I’m fine. I just...” He gestured at the glass. “Broke...something.”

  Glancing down, Steven saw the remains of what might once have been a very pretty glass sculpture. He caught the elegant curve of a horse’s neck and a larger hunk of perhaps a carriage. “I’m sorry.”

  The young man shrugged. Although the hair hid his face, Steven heard a small sniff. “My fault. I didn’t pack it right.” He shrugged again.

  Steven put two and two together. “Are you the new tenant?”

  The chestnut hair swayed in a nod.

  “Well, hey, welcome to the building. Can I help you with some boxes or something?”

  “Oh, no, that’s...nice of you, but no. I’ll have it done in....” A panicked look at the spilled personal effects around him, then another shrug. “I’ll get it done.”

  “No worries.” Steven stepped past him and righted the box that lay over a few of the bottom stairs. “Let’s just get this stuff back in here. I’ve got a dust pan we can use to clean up the glass.” He kept his tone brisk, guessing that the glass figure had meant something special to the young man and not wanting to make him uncomfortable by noticing. Carefully, he picked up the picture album, trying not to spill any more loose photographs.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Ahem.”

  Steven stopped, a photo in his hand of the young man with a comely young woman, and looked over his shoulder to face Patty, who stood in his doorway, arms crossed over her considerable bosom. “Oh, hey!” He ignored her pointed look and dropped the album and photo into the box. “Patty, you go ahead and eat. I’m going to help out....” He looked down at the man kneeling beside him. “What’s your name?”

  The man looked at Patty, no doubt noticing her impatient look. “What? Oh, Devon. Uh, hey, you don’t have to—”

  “Devon.” Gorgeous name. Suited him. Too bad many of the pictures Steven spied spilling from the album were of him with girls. Which meant he was almost definitely straight. Too bad. Steven smiled up at Patty. “I’m going to help Devon here move the last of his stuff up to his place. He’s our new neighbor.”

  Predictably, she wasn’t impressed, although some of the pique melted from her face as she finally got a good, hard look at Devon. Patty was even more susceptible to the helpless puppy look than he was, and this kid had the look down pat with the mannerisms to match. “Don’t be silly. I’ll put it back on the stove and cover it. Then I’ll come out and help you.”

  “Wait!” Devon climbed to his feet, hand out toward her, but she’d already turned back inside. He couldn’t know that mere words wouldn’t stop Patty.

  Because Devon was looking the other way, Steven took a look at him standing tall. “Tall” being the operative word. Steven was a respectable five foot ten, but the boy overshot him by at least half a foot, putting Steven eye-level with the gently curved jaw and the soft scruff of beard at the tip of Devon’s chin. Resisting the urge to reach out and test the strength in the broad shoulders within that worn t-shirt, Steven turned and knelt to continue picking stuff off the stairs.

  “Hey, wait.”

  A hand on his arm made him pause, although he didn’t look up. Not good to ogle the new guy too much.

  “You don’t have to do this. You were just about to eat, and your wife’s waiting for you.”

  Steven had to grin. “No worries. She’s not my wife, and it’ll wait.” He dumped a few more things into the box. “Besides—” He picked up the box and finally looked back at Devon. “—this way you can join us. You eaten yet?”

  Indecisiveness twisted that gorgeous mouth to the side. “Well, no....”

  “I thought not. Let’s get your stuff upstairs, and I’ll welcome you to the building by feeding you. You’ve got to be hungry.”

  “No. That’s nice of you but—” Despite Devon’s protests, his belly took that moment to growl its own opinion.

  Steven smiled. Bracing the box underneath one arm, he reached out and finally took a squeeze of one of those arms. Very nice. Strong and firm, with good tone. “No protesting, my man. We’re neighbors now. You’ve got to give Patty and me a chance to get to know you.”

  Maybe his
smile did it. Steven didn’t know, but whatever he did, Devon finally smiled. Sweet Jesus, the boy had a gorgeous smile. Steven had to send urgent messages to his crotch to keep it from filling at the mere sight.

  Devon nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Steven held out his hand for a shake. “Steven Connolly.”

  Devon took it and gave it a good shake. “Devon Pavenic.”

  The chore to move Devon in was more than Steven had anticipated. Although he’d heard someone moving through the hallway outside his apartment and up the stairs for most of the time since he’d gotten home from work, Devon still had most of a rented U-Haul full of stuff. Including furniture.

  “A buddy of mine was supposed to help me out,” he explained sheepishly as they set down the frame for his futon, “but I don’t know what happened to him.” A look crossed over Devon’s face, an empty stare of loss and confusion that he’d point to a corner of the room now and then. Steven had already glimpsed it a few times in just the short time since he’d met Devon.

  “Not much of a buddy,” Patty announced, appearing in the front door with another box. At five foot ten herself, Patty was as big and as strong, if not stronger, than most of the men she knew. She gave Steven a pointed stare. “Good thing Steven’s around.”

  He scowled at her behind Devon’s back, a silent “be nice” in his look.

  She shrugged and took the box to the bedroom, her long blonde braid bouncing against her back.

  Steven wiped the frown from his face as Devon turned back to him. “Yeah, hey.” He extended his hand. “Thanks, man.”

  Steven took it readily, happy to touch the younger man in any way, shape, or form. “Don’t mention it.” Reluctantly, he let go when Devon’s grip eased. With a satisfied sigh, he looked around. “Well, we got it all up here.” He rubbed his belly, getting dirt on his polo shirt, but it was old so he didn’t mind. “What say we go eat?”

  “I’m up for that,” Patty chimed in, wiping her own hands as she came toward them.

  There went that hesitation again. Devon was friendly enough, but when he thought he was imposing, he shrank away better than any violet. “That’s okay, I’ll just—”

  Patty clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned him toward the front door. “Don’t even try it. I carried up everything that’s in that kitchen, and I know there’s no food in there. You’re a young, healthy boy, and you need your vittles.” She shoved him toward the door hard enough that he stumbled. “Besides—” She stepped after him, halting the protest he almost threw over his shoulder. “—Steven is a professional cook. You should not pass up an opportunity to eat anything he’s prepared, even if it’s reheated.”

  “You’re a cook?” Devon asked as Steven joined him on the landing. Patty had brushed past and was starting down the stairs.

  Smiling, Steven put a hand on the back of his shoulder and guided him after Patty. “I am.”

  “He’s certified and everything,” Patty threw back. “Works as an assistant at a coffee shop across town, although he deserves better. He drives the whole street crazy when he’s got the windows open. The smell drives ’em nuts.”

  Devon threw a wide-eyed stare over his shoulder.

  Steven chuckled and shook his head. “She exaggerates.”

  “She does not,” Patty argued. She stopped at her own door. “You boys go on ahead. I’m going to change into a cleaner shirt.”

  Steven saw Devon frown after her as he passed by the younger man on his way to his door. He held it open once he got there and sneaked another admiring glance at the boy as he passed into the apartment. Although he was almost certainly not gay, that didn’t mean Steven couldn’t look his fill as long as he didn’t make the boy uncomfortable.

  “She doesn’t live here?” Devon asked, voice low, as though Patty could hear.

  “Nope.” Steven let the door slip mostly shut, leaving it cracked open for Patty. “We’re just neighbors.”

  “Oh.” He trailed Steven toward the kitchen. “I thought she....”

  “I know. I told you she wasn’t my wife. She’s not my girlfriend either. We’re just friends.” He grinned, gesturing to the four-seater table. “Have a seat. I’ll just turn on the sauce and get you a place-setting.”

  “Wow.” A glance showed Devon staring at the table, hands gripping the back of one chair. “This looks nice.”

  “Thank you.” Even when it was just him, Steven tended to set a nice table. He liked candles, so they were almost always lit as well.

  Devon lifted his face, inhaling deeply. “Smells great, too. You live here by yourself?”

  Steven chuckled as he retrieved a plate from the cabinet by the window. “Just me and the cats.” He glanced down to see Maggie, the braver of said duo, edging to Devon’s heel to sniff the newcomer.

  “It’s so...clean.”

  Steven had to laugh as he got a fork and knife from the drawer. “Not all men live like pigs.”

  “Oh, no, wait. Shit, uh, I mean, no....” Devon shook his head, clutching the chair. “Jeez, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  Still laughing, Steven brought the place-setting to the table. “Don’t worry about it. No offense taken. Please, sit. No, wait.” He eyed Devon’s hands. Big with long fingers, they were currently covered in grime and dust. “You should probably wash your hands.” He nodded toward a door to the left. “Bathroom’s through the bedroom at the end of the hall.”

  Devon looked at his hands, eyes big, as though he were shocked to find them in such a state. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” An adorable flush colored his cheeks just before he ducked his head. “I’ll be right back.” Carefully he stepped away from the cat and disappeared down the hall.

  Happily humming to himself, Steven quickly turned the stereo back on low, listening to his favored jazz as he re-entered the kitchen to reheat his abandoned meal.

  Patty bundled in before he’d reached the saucepan. “Where is he?” she whispered, edging up beside him.

  “Bathroom.”

  She stared at his profile. Hard.

  He blinked at her. “What?”

  “Don’t give me what, you.” She punched his arm. “Do you think he’s gay?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters!” she hissed. “You practically tackled him on the staircase.”

  He scowled. “I did no such thing.”

  “Okay, maybe that was wishful thinking on my part.” She glanced toward the hall. “Want me to leave?”

  “Why?” He turned on the flame under the sauce and considered the chicken, wondering if it was best to just nuke it.

  “Oooo, can I stay and watch you wrestle him to the couch? Or your bed? I’ll be good. I’ll just stand in the corner and watch.”

  He sighed, feeling the embarrassed flush on his own neck. Although he should be used to it. Patty was a self-proclaimed fag hag and proud of it. He loved her, but she had the tenacity of a pit bull when it came to hooking him up with some “sweet young thing.” “Stop it.” He reached into the cabinet for a plate. “He’s way too young for me.”

  “What? He’s got to be in his twenties, at least.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, please, ten years at the most, probably less than that.” She sighed happily, moving aside at his nudge, allowing him access to the microwave. “He is adorable, though.”

  “And most likely straight.”

  “We need to find out.”

  “Down, girl.” He punched in numbers and started the microwave. “Besides, that picture album was full of pictures of him with girls.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  “It almost definitely means something.” He lifted the lid on another pot to check the pasta.

  She grumped, crossing her arms. “Boo, hiss.”

  He chuckled. “Patty, love, don’t scare the poor boy on his first day in the building.”

  The bathroom door opened.

  Patty spread a hand over her heart, open
ing her eyes wide. “Moi?”

  His frown just made her smile.

  Devon entered the room, sheepishly making his way to the dining table. Not only were his hands clean, but it looked like he’d run wet fingers through his hair too, trying to calm it. A smudge of dirt that had been on the right side of his long neck was gone too.

  Hmmm, when did I notice that? Steven wondered.

  Patty met the young man at the table. “So, Devon, what brings you to the building?”

  It was a lightly asked question, but Steven saw the hesitation and the duck of the head that meant there was a story there. A quick glance from Patty told him she saw it too. But Devon recovered, smiling. “I just moved out of my parents’ place.”

  “Near here?”

  “Oh, no, a few hours away.”

  She pulled out her chair and sat. “What brings you to the neighborhood?”

  “It’s not that far from work, and it was what I could afford.” He sat, picking up the napkin Steven had laid on the plate and draping it over his thigh.

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a UPS driver.”

  Steven stirred his sauce, trying not to picture what Devon’s long legs looked like in those brown shorts.

  “Do you go to Pierce?” she asked, mentioning a local college that many of the young people who lived around them attended.

  Devon’s pause made Steven glance over, just in time to see the tail end of another embarrassed head duck. “Not anymore.”

  “Graduated?”

  Steven tried to catch Patty’s eye, but she was watching Devon closely. He was sure she was seeing the signs just as well as he was, but she had a hook in her mouth now.

  “No,” Devon answered, voice low. “I...left.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  “Hey, Devon,” Steven called, retrieving the plate of chicken from the microwave. “What do you want to drink? I’ve got wine, Coke, water, fruit juice. What suits your fancy?”