by Jet Mykles
Get a fucking grip! Gulping, he forced himself to turn, grabbing up the mug with a bit too much force. He cursed when some of the hot liquid splashed on his fingers.
“Steven?” Soft, raspy, deep. Oh, man, what he wouldn’t give to hear Devon’s voice like that after a night of mauling that body! His mouth watered at the mere thought.
He switched the mug to his other hand and used the wet one to wipe up as much of the liquid from the sides as he could. “I brought you coffee.” He held the mug toward Devon, lifting his wet hand to his mouth to lick up some of the liquid and soothe the slight burn. “Sorry, spilled a little.”
A little more sense in those big eyes as Devon sat up and reached for the mug. “Oh. Thanks.” He took a sip, eyes closing in pleasure at the first taste. The sheet was bunched in his lap, almost showing a little more of his crotch.
Leave now. “Right.” He took a step back from the futon, hoping Devon was still asleep enough not to see the tenting of Steven’s pants, “You’re up, yeah?”
Another sip, then Steven got a heart-breaking smile over the rim. “Yeah. Thanks for waking me.”
Steven nodded, licking his lips. “’Kay.” He cleared his throat, turning toward the door. “No problem. I’ve got bagels downstairs if you have time to grab one before you leave.”
“Really? Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. I gotta go get dressed.” He opened the front door. “See you in a few.”
Ah, shit! His cock was throbbing, insistent, angry at him for leaving such a delicacy behind. He wanted nothing more than to say screw work and go back into that apartment. He was almost ready to beg Devon for just a taste of his cock, a bite of his nipple. Anything.
All too aware of the pole between his legs, Steven hurried downstairs and back into the safety of his own apartment. He stood for a moment in the middle of his bedroom, trying to calm down, but it wasn’t working. Closing his eyes just filled his mind with images that were no doubt indelibly branded on his psyche now. Devon’s rich, tanned skin had looked so pale against the dark sheets, even in the awful lighting, and the curls that tried to cover his face had never looked more like a puppy’s soft fur, begging to be petted. Not to mention the deep, thick curls trying to protect what had looked like a tasty sac between nicely muscled thighs.
“Goddammit!”
Giving up, he shucked his pajama pants on the floor and stormed to the shower. Good thing he had decided to wake Devon first. He twisted on the water—not nearly cold enough to tamp the heat in his blood—soaped one palm, leaned the other on the tiles, and went to work on the cock that wanted nothing more to than to ease between firm, round ass cheeks to find a sinfully tight hole.
Or, better, let what he guessed to be a deliciously thick, long cock ease between his own cheeks. He liked getting fucked just as much as fucking, and wouldn’t it be heaven to support himself and that long, sleek body while Devon pumped into him? Groaning, he had to spread his feet a little more, locking his knees lest they buckle. He needed to get laid. He was too familiar with his own hand of late, and while the images in his head were doing a great job of building his need, nothing could compare to the warm press of a hard body, the tickle of crispy hair, an echoing moan from another throat. “Ah, fuck!” He grunted, gripping at the tiles as orgasm hooked his tailbone, forcing his hips to jerk as spurts of white spattered the fake tile before him. Whimpering under his breath, he massaged his cock as it sputtered empty, torturing himself by fingering the all-too-sensitive head. Would Devon outlast him and keep ramming into him after he’d come? God, he loved that! His spent cock twitched its agreement in his fingers.
Sighing, he stood for a few minutes under the water, letting it sluice the heated pleasure from his skin and down the drain. He needed to get a grip. I need to get laid. Yes, that was it. And while the body he wanted to lay wasn’t available, he could certainly find another. Tilting his face into the heat of the shower’s spray, he opened his mouth and let it fill with water. Yeah, call Andre or Frank—two of his buddies whom he hadn’t seen in a while. They’d take him out. They’d hear his trials, help him laugh it off, and then they’d find him an appropriate substitute for some much-needed release.
That’s the ticket. Decided, he pulled his control around himself like a blanket and, when it was secure, finally stood and finished his shower properly. Fully calm, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed one of his fluffy blue towels to dry off.
A clearing throat shattered his calm. “Steven?”
He jumped a mile, smashing his hip into the side of the sink. Swearing, he grabbed the edge, clutching the towel to his groin as he whipped his head toward the door.
Devon stood there, wide-eyed, luscious mouth parted in surprise. He didn’t even seem to notice the water that had flown from Steven’s wet hair to dot his uniform shirt. He swallowed, and a flush crept up his neck to his ears. “Uh, sorry. I, uh.... Do you want butter or cream cheese on your bagel?”
Steven wanted to laugh, but surprise kept him from it. Here he was, clutching a towel, dripping wet, staring at the central focus of his wet dreams. “You don’t have to make it for me.”
“I know. I just....” The tips of Devon’s ears had to hurt, they were flaming so bright. He dropped his gaze, turning back into the bedroom. “I’ll just leave both out.”
Steven watched him go, unsure what he felt. Part of him was mortified. How long had Devon been in the apartment? Could he have heard? Was Steven that loud when he was jerking off in the shower? Part of him was delighted. Devon had seen him naked. Did he like what he saw?
Wide-eyed himself, Steven faced the mirror. Water dripped from his short black curls onto his shoulders. Nice and broad, not as toned as Devon’s, but then, he had nine years on the younger man. His eyes were also brown, but not as deep as Devon’s, nor as round. His Korean mother had gifted him with slanted eyes that Patty and a few exes assured him were to die for. His face was round and, he thought, kind of flat, but he did think he had a rather nice mouth. The body was slim, and he was in good enough shape from jogging a few nights a week when he got off from the restaurant early. Except for on his arms and legs and around his cock, his body was practically hairless, another trait that certain exes had found fascinating. Would Devon find it fascinating?
No, he won’t. Because he’s straight, dipshit. Now stop daydreaming and get dressed, or you’ll be late.
Shaking his head, he finished toweling off and headed into the—thankfully empty—bedroom to find some clothes.
Devon was sitting at the table, almost done with one of the huge bagels, when Steven finally emerged. He looked up, then ducked his head sheepishly back over his plate as Steven passed behind him. “Steven, I’m sorry about….”
Steven chuckled, calm again. “No worries, Dev. We’re both guys, right?”
Devon didn’t take the bait, and Steven hadn’t expected him to.
Humming under his breath, Steven retrieved his mug and finally filled up his first cup of the day. Visions of Devon had deprived him of his caffeine, just a testament to how potent they were! He crossed the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, then bent down to find the half-and-half. He nearly dropped the carton when he spied the jar of Devon cream sitting beside it, label facing front. When had that moved? He always kept it toward the back, lest Devon see it. He’d only opened it to taste once, then shoved it away again, unable to take the thoughts that accompanied it.
Did Devon see it?
God, he hoped not.
Unable to surreptitiously hide it now, he hastily used the half-and-half and closed the refrigerator, hoping Devon would have no further need to go in there. After last night, he didn’t need Devon thinking he was nearly as obsessed as he was. Which makes going out tonight essential. “Hey, Dev?”
Devon jumped as Steven turned around. “Yeah?”
“You think you can feed yourself tonight?” Steven leaned against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Huh?”
&nbs
p; “I was thinking of going out. Calling a few of my buddies to hit a bar or four. You’ll be all right on your own?”
“Oh.” Devon blinked down at his empty plate. “Yeah. Sure.”
A crazy notion almost had Steven opening his mouth to invite Devon along, but that would defeat the purpose. “If you don’t have anything upstairs, you’re welcome to whatever’s in the cupboard or fridge.” Note to self: hide the cream.
“Oh,no, no. I’ll be fine. I’ll get a pizza or something.”
Steven shuddered, knowing Devon was thinking Domino’s or Pizza Hut—which Steven did not consider to be real pizza—but kept his objection to himself. He turned to the toaster when it popped up his bagel halves. “Cool. Sorry about the short notice.”
“Oh, hey, no problem.” Devon stood, plate in hand. “Hell, you’ve been way nice letting me mooch off you.”
Steven smiled as he snapped a paper towel from the roll and spread it on the counter. “I told you before, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”
Steven studiously did not watch Devon as he washed and rinsed his plate and put it in the strainer. By the time he was done, Steven had prepared his bagel and taken his first bite. Steven checked his watch. “Hey, I’ve got to get out of here.” He hastily wrapped the rest of his bagel in the paper towel and headed for the front door.
Devon followed. When Steven opened the door and turned, he caught Devon watching him, an odd, thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “What’s up?”
“Huh?” Devon shook his head. “Oh, nothing.”
Chapter Four
Steven knocked on Devon’s door and waited. He heard movement within, a scrape of a chair, and then the door opened. Devon was dressed in a worn gray Sketchers t-shirt and familiar cargo shorts. Barefoot, hair mussed, he looked positively edible.
Which didn’t bother Steven so much today, so he smiled. “Hey. Wasn’t sure if you were coming down to dinner.”
“Oh.” Devon ducked his head, that telltale blush coloring his neck above the ripped collar of his shirt. “I wasn’t sure if...uh....”
Laughing, Steven shook his head. “Just because I left you on your own one night doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned you.” He turned toward the landing, waving an arm. “Come on. We’re waiting, and I have news to share.”
“News?” The door shut, and feet followed Steven down the stairs. “Did something happen last night?”
“Yep.”
“What?”
“Just a minute.” He glanced over his shoulder as he opened his front door, grinning. “I want to tell you and Patty together.” Steven led the way to the table, waving Devon into his normal seat as he took his own. One brief glance showed him Devon’s confusion at seeing another man seated at the table with Patty. “Devon, meet Larry.”
Larry stood, hand extended to shake Devon’s. He was a little shorter than Steven, so he was a lot shorter than Devon, but there was a force of personality in his smile that made him seem much larger. His short, dirty-blond hair took on a somewhat golden sheen in the light of the candles on the table. “Hello, Devon. Nice to meet you.”
Devon stared at Larry, at his hand, then shook it. “Hello.”
Steven picked up Devon’s plate. “Larry’s a friend of a friend,” he explained, savoring the sweet, heady aroma of tomatoes and pepper coming off the spoonful of chicken and rice casserole as he dished it onto Devon’s plate. “We met last night.” He grinned at Devon as he handed over the plate.
Devon frowned a little as he accepted it. “Oh.”
Larry laughed. “And what a fortuitous meeting!” He held up a bottle of wine toward Devon. “Do you drink? This is a lovely Cabernet.” His straight white teeth fairly sparkled in his deeply tanned face. Larry looked like one of those yuppie tourists just returned from a holiday in Cancun, his hazel eyes still gleaming from a week of sun and surf.
Devon startled, caught in the blare of that smile. “Uh, sure.”
“Good!” Larry poured for him without hesitation. “Steven told me about both of you last night.” He grinned, then set the wine bottle down and lifted his glass toward Steven. “I’m afraid we talked for hours. My apologies for monopolizing your time.”
Steven matched his grin, lifting his own glass to toast. “Don’t mention it. Pleasure was all mine.”
Patty set down her fork with emphasis. “All right, you two. Devon’s here. Would you please tell me what you’re up to? I’m dying.”
Larry laughed. “Steven, the honors.”
Steven set down his glass. “As it so happens, Larry is opening a restaurant, and he’s looking for a head chef.”
Patty gasped. Her irritated frown evaporated, one hand spreading over her ample bosom.
“Imagine my excitement when I found out that my friend Andre had a friend who just happens to be a chef in search of a restaurant.”
“Cook,” Steven corrected, but no one was listening to him. Larry had both Patty’s and Devon’s full, shocked attention.
Patty leaned toward Larry. “Do tell!”
Steven couldn’t stop grinning as Larry told Patty about his uncle who owned the restaurant, about his failing health, about Larry having money to invest and an idea. He’d heard it all before over drinks the previous night, of course. He’d been so caught up that he’d lost track of Andre and Frank and his original purpose of getting laid. The prospect of the restaurant and the force of Larry’s conviction had been much more exciting. Meeting Larry at said establishment that afternoon had just made him more excited. He and Larry had similar ideas and grand prospects. Andre had vouched for Larry’s business sense and reliability. Steven hadn’t been this excited about his career since he’d been fresh out of school.
As Patty and Larry talked, Devon quietly listened. Steven noticed that he wasn’t eating very much. Normally, he would have been dishing out his second helping, but he was hardly into the first. He listened, but didn’t join the conversation, nor did he touch the wine.
“Don’t like?” Steven asked in a murmur, leaning a little toward Devon as he spooned another helping of casserole onto his own plate.
Devon startled. “Oh, no, it’s great.” He smiled, but it was lacking its usual luster. He shoveled a few bites into his mouth, but Steven noted that his interest quickly waned again.
“We’ve got a ways to go,” Larry was saying as he returned from the kitchen with a fresh bottle of wine, “but I’m hopeful.” He sat sideways in his chair to give himself room to pull out the cork. “Ah! And by the way, Steven, this—” He indicated the casserole dish as he pulled his chair properly to the table. “—was divine. Meals like this, and we’ll making headlines in the Times’ Living section in no time.”
Steven smiled. “Thank you.”
“It’s all so exciting!” Patty enthused, holding her glass for Larry to fill. Normally she didn’t drink much, but she’d obviously decided this was an occasion. Also, it was pretty good wine.
“I agree. So, Devon.” Larry turned to the younger man, topping off his glass without asking. “Steven tells me you’re a driver?”
“Huh? Yeah?”
“Do you like it? Steven told me about the hours.” He shuddered. “I don’t think I could get up that early.”
Devon shrugged, dropping his gaze with a slight scowl. “It’s okay.”
Undeterred, Larry kept focus on him. “I’m more of a night owl, myself. I think we’ll concentrate more on the late crowd. Don’t you think, Steven?” He didn’t pause for an answer, picking up his glass and still talking to Devon. “Steven was thinking maybe you might like to work at the restaurant. Waiter? Maybe in the kitchen? Normally I’d look to experienced help, but Steven seems to think you’d do well, and I plan to leave the running of the kitchen to him.”
Devon gaped at Steven. “You said that?”
Steven shrugged, but couldn’t help his grin. “Sure. Why not? If I can get out of my hell, why not get you out of yours?”
Devon, it seemed, had no response for this. He
just stared at Steven, big eyes full of confusion.
Larry laughed. “I believe he’s surprised.”
Patty snorted. “I don’t see why. Steven’s taken care of you since he met you, Devon. Why wouldn’t he think of you now?”
Devon whipped his head around to look at her, then, blushing, ducked his head.
Steven scowled at Patty. “Stop it.”
Patty rolled her eyes and spoke to Larry. “Do you have a job for an overworked accountant?”
Larry glanced at Steven, then Devon, then smiled at Patty. “Well, I already have an accountant whom I’ve been with for years, but I’ll keep you in mind.”
“Hmmm, kind of attached, are you?”
“I’ll say. Happily married for seven years now.”
“Married!” Patty’s overreaction drew attention; Devon’s head shot back up. “You’re married?”
Larry sat back, smiling, but taken by surprise. “Yes.”
Patty tossed her napkin on the table. “Well, damn. I was hoping you and Steven would hook up.”
Larry laughed. “What?”
Steven covered his eyes with his palm. “I’m sorry, Larry. I should have warned you. Patty’s been trying to settle me down for a few years now.” He’d thought that Patty might jump to conclusions, but had hoped that she’d behave.
“But what about our friend here?” Larry asked, looking at Devon.
Steven didn’t hesitate in coming to Devon’s defense. “My luck is not that good. Devon’s straight.”
He didn’t miss the look Devon gave him, but couldn’t decipher the frown.
“Oh. Sorry.” Larry grinned. He glanced at Devon, then leaned forward, intent on Steven across the table. “Hey, how about I talk to my friend about doing an exposé on our gay head chef when we open our doors? That might get some prospects in the door.”