Lazy Sundays (Lazy Days Book 1)

by K-lee Klein

  “Jesus Christ, what are you doing?” his brain screamed at him. “Now you're stuck in here without your jacket and keys with no way of sneaking out of the club and home with your tail tucked between your legs. Do you even have your wallet, stupid man?” Scott at least did have that, but the rest was all basically true in the harshest way possible. “I'm so screwed,” he spoke aloud, not expecting someone to answer him.

  “Not if you don't let me in,” Devon's voice whispered through the metal door. Scott froze. He freaking froze like he was in a horror movie being stalked by the monster in the closet. Devon tapped and Scott heard him sigh. “I think I already told you one of my fantasies,” he purred breathy and irresistible. When Scott still didn't find the balls to open the door, Devon continued. “I saw this movie once where this older woman undressed the younger dude real slow. Everything except his tie—”

  Scott whipped the door open so hard Devon stumbled backwards, his shit-eating grin was intact though. “Is that guy still out there,” Scott hissed after Devon shut the door behind him. “Did he hear―?”

  Devon kissed the sentence away and along with it the indecision Scott had been feeling. And he kissed back. He kissed Devon like a man possessed, like a man not scared out of his mind about being caught in a very compromising position. Devon kissed the questions and awkwardness right out of Scott.

  “So, this movie—the woman shoved the guy against the bathroom door…” Devon said as he worked his mouth along the curve of Scott's jaw, his tongue dragging like a match teasing a flame over his skin. “She undid his shirt slowly, one button at a time, touching and kissing each piece of exposed skin.”

  Scott struggled to breathe when Devon slid his fingers under the knot of his tie, ghosting them down his neck until they slid under the first button. The simple gesture, coupled with Devon's gravely twang sent Scott's libido reeling. Sex in a public place—was he really going to have sex in a holy mother of god, public place with the sexiest man on the planet? His very uncomfortable erection said yes.

  He reached for Devon, but his hands were quickly slapped away. “The guy wasn't allowed to touch,” Devon growled. “All part of the excitement. The fantasy. Wanna keep going?” Scott only had time to nod before Devon pushed on. “The time she took on each button felt like an eternity, and the guy…the guy could barely stand still while she teased and taunted him.”

  Scott definitely understood the guy's issue. But he held still, arms tight to his side, back pressed against the coolness of the metal door. Devon inserted a knee between Scott's thighs, levering it so he shifted his stance and his feet were wider apart. He failed in smothering a groan when Devon rubbed his knee against the front of Scott's pants. “Dev,” he panted. “Do you really think this—”

  Devon kissed him again, briefly but passionately. “This is your fantasy, sweetheart. I'll stop whenever you want.”

  “I don't…I don't want you to stop.” Scott swallowed around the knot of desire lodged in his throat. “Tell me more?”

  One more kiss and Devon continued his story. “Did I mention they were in a bathroom too? One like this with people coming and going, listening to them making love, even getting themselves off while in their own cubicles.” He'd finally reached button ground zero and slid his hands inside Scott's shirt, skimming calloused fingers over his ribs then up to his chest.

  “Shit,” Scott moaned when Devon tweaked his nipple then followed it up with a soothing lick and gentle suck.

  “Shhh,” Devon cooed, moving his hands to frame Scott's head against the door. He kissed him sweetly this time, his almost chaste, heated mouth lingering on the corner of Scott's. “You know this is just as exciting for me, right? Suit porn is real. We're both getting our rocks off on this, babe. I swear.”

  “Touch me,” Scott whined.

  Devon smiled with that Cheshire Cat expression Scott found both alluring and annoying. But since he continued the story, Scott gave him a pass on it. “The guy in the video had a total nipple kink. From the noises he made, I thought he was going to shoot off before she even got to the good stuff.”

  “Please get to the good stuff. Or let me touch you, Dev,” Scott whined. He wasn't proud of his tone, but dammit, Devon was making him crazy. Luckily, Devon nodded, and Scott immediately grabbed his hips, fingers digging into the rough jean material as he dragged their thighs together.

  His power move was short lived when Devon snickered, easing back and dragging his tongue over Scott's jaw, over his neck, and down his sternum, moving Scott's tie out of the way but still not taking it off. He left a damp trail in his wake, one that tingled from the frosty air of the air conditioner.

  “She didn't take his shirt off either, left it gaping open with the guy's tie pointing to her ultimate goal. She had long red nails and left a trail of red lines down his chest.” As if to demonstrate, Devon scratched blunt nails down Scott's body, but they didn't seem to have the same effect. “The bathroom was dingy, way dirtier than this one, but she dropped to her knees right then, stockings ripping and five-inch heels scrabbling on the rough floor.” Devon imitated his own words, gripping Scott's hips as he knelt between his feet.

  He looked up at Scott with lusty, dark eyes, his mouth red and wet, the epitome of any kind of porn movie Scott had ever embarrassingly watched. He appeared to be waiting for some sign, so Scott gave him a silent nod, but his anxiety got the better of him again before Devon could continue. “We don't want to miss the second set—” Devon palmed Scott's crotch, making him unable to think, let alone understand what the heck he was trying to say.

  A demonic chuckle preceded Devon mouthing the front of Scott's wool pants. He traced the shape but didn't suck on the head through the material, much to Scott's disappointment. Instead, Devon started talking again. “She sucked him through his pants, holding him hostage, making him hotter with one hand on his belly. I don't want to make it too obvious what we've been up to when we walk out of here. I'll try to be a little more discreet, though I can tell you the guy was thick and leaking under the fabric just like you, sweetheart.”

  “That's so not helpful.”

  Devon spent some time caressing Scott, cupping and touching until he thought he'd go mad. When Devon finally popped the button open, Scott whimpered under his breath. “I don't think she even took her mouth off him when she dragged his cock out of his pants.” The cold air hit Scott's dick like freezer burn, quickly replaced by Devon's mouth covering the tip. Scott gasped and whacked the back of his head against the door when his pants were shoved to his ankles and more than only his cockhead received outstanding attention.

  When Devon let Scott’s shaft slip out of his mouth with a loud slurp, he grabbed for Devon’s head. “Patience,” Devon teased, tugging one of Scott's hands away then sucking his index finger into his mouth. “She told him that too. Life imitating art, right? Or porn I guess.” He chuckled and the vibrations nearly sent Scott over the edge. How goddamn embarrassing would that be? It didn't matter how sexy Devon was, Scott refused to have a middle-school accident, in his pants, in the washroom of his favorite jazz club.

  Head spinning with desire, impossibly shadowing his thoughts of being publicly ridiculed, and stuffing them into a box to freak over later, Scott flattened his back against the door of the bathroom stall. There was always something about having Devon kneeling at his feet that brought not only an extra burst of wonder and glee to Scott, but also a strange kind of pride that he—plain old Scott Weston—could actually have someone so far out of his league.

  “Did he, did the guy…” Scott stammered when Devon licked the underside of his cockhead. He breathed through his nose, controlling the urge to pull Devon's hair with the hand still twined in the strands. “Jesus, Dev.” He suddenly had no idea what he'd been about to say, especially when Devon ducked even lower, tickling his balls with his tongue and nudging his dick with his nose.

  “Where was I?” Devon asked when he came up lifted his head again. Scott could only whimper in response.
“I gotta tell you I watch a lot of porn, or used to, and that woman…man, she could deep throat like nobody's business. Pretty sure she can even put me to shame.”

  “Are you seriously going to keep talking?” The question was abrupt and echoed judgingly through the bathroom.

  Devon hummed then took Scott between his lips again. All the gentle teasing disappeared, and Scott felt like a vacuum had been attached to his dick, one that was attempting to suck his entire brain out a tiny hole. He stuffed his fist in his mouth, knocked his head against the door a few times as softly as he could manage, while a zing of pleasure zapped up his spine then back down again. He swallowed his whimpers, but Devon was relentless in his cock sucking. His tongue was like an award-winning prototype created for the soul purpose to get Scott off.

  Devon sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed, and Scott came in a burst of heat and relief, his entire body bucking, matching the pulsing of his dick. He saw red suns and yellow stars and freakishly blue moons, and why the heck was he thinking about Lucky Charms? His movements stilled with Devon's expert aftershock care, until the white noise muddying his brain became too much and his knees threatened to fold beneath him. Devon barely caught him before he hit the floor.

  “Easy,” Devon whispered when he got them both to their feet again. He flattened Scott against the door, offering a full-body press to keep him there while dotted kisses over his face. “That was incredible.”

  “But I haven't even…I haven't returned the favor yet,” Scott panted. He gripped the firm globes of Devon's ass, pulling him close so he could feel Devon's full erection pressed against his hip. “Do you want me to?”

  Devon kissed him on the mouth, no putzing around, a simple but messy mix of saliva and Scott's own fluids. It was something he'd never been into, tasting himself on his partner's lips, but Devon made everything different, more acceptable, and downright hotter than he ever thought possible.

  “I'm good,” Devon told him, reaching down to tuck Scott back in his pants. “But I'll take a rain-check.”

  “A bathroom rain-check?” Scott was only a little disappointed. He wasn't sure he could perform adequately anyhow.

  With one last nip at Scott's bottom lip, Devon looked smug. “Sure, but I thought I'd tell you about another porn I watched. I think it involved a desk and one of those feather duster things.”

  Scott was going to die. Devon was going to kill him without even trying. “I, um, really?”

  “Yep. Two guys in suits that time. Fucking hot.” Devon smirked at him from beneath long lashes. He moved his hands to Scott's butt, grasped and pulled until they were pressed impossibly closer again. “I won't deny, I got pretty damn excited. Especially when they both ended up naked except their ties and one bent the other and plowed him so hard the desk creaked and groaned with the force.

  “My desk is pretty small,” Scott uttered, immediately realizing how stupid it sounded. He quickly tried to remedy his lameness. “Do you, you know, own a suit?” Was that a rude question? He hoped not.

  Devon's smirk was monumentally devious. “Strangely enough, I have an entire suit made of leather. How's that sound?”

  Jesus Murphy. “I don't think we should talk about it right now,” Scott said, reaching down to adjust the crotch of his pants. His dick had taken notice of Devon's comment, but now wasn't the time or place, at least not again. They needed to either get the hell out of Dodge or Scott was going to rip Devon's clothes off right then and there. “I think they're going to start again. Unless you don't want to stay. I'm good with whatever you want to do.”

  “I could use another drink before you take me home and ravish me,” Devon joked with a quirk of one brow.

  “Ravish? Geez, Dev. You're killing me here.”

  Devon leaned in to press the sweetest of kisses to Scott's mouth. “Definitely don't want to do that. We've got time, sweetheart. You wanna buy me a drink?”

  Scott thumbed across Devon's lips, gathering a tiny dot of white in the corner. “I can do that. Then we'll discuss the ravishing and f-f-feather thing?” He was proud to get through it without stuttering, almost, and Devon's look of pride was all the encouragement he needed. “You okay for public consumption, DuCaine?” He palmed Devon's fly.

  “I'm fine walking around half-cocked.”

  With a groan, Scott pushed Devon away. “You did not go there.”

  Devon winked. “I totally did.”

  They made it back to the table without incident, drinks in hand and knowing smirks on their faces. Technical difficulties made the intermission run longer than expected so they quietly conversed and sipped their drinks. Scott was about to ask Devon if he wanted another drink when they were interrupted.

  “Devastation? Oh my fucking god! It's you. What are you doing in a place like this?”

  The man behind the voice threw himself between Scott and Devon, slapping Devon on the back and replacing their laughter with his own. “I can’t fucking believe it’s you. I’m such a huge fan. Are you guys play—”

  “I think you have me confused with someone else,” Devon interrupted, his eyes narrowed and lips pursed in a scowl. He turned back to Scott. “Do you mind if we cut out early? I’m suddenly not feeling so hot.”

  “Yo’, man, can I get an autograph?”

  Devon shoved his chair back. The smile he offered the guy was fake, even Scott could see that, but confusion kept him silently observing. Devon wound his fingers around the guy's arm and yanked him so they were eye-to-eye. “I told you, you must be mistaken. My friend and I were just leaving.” He let him go, throwing another fake grin his way then turned back to Scott.

  “How about a photo then? My friends will be so jeal—”

  “Look, pal. We're leaving.” Scott had never heard Devon sound so angry and he had no idea why. “Now back the fuck off.”

  Scott watched the interaction with amazement. Devon’s jaw was clenched, the little muscles on the sides twitching with the strain, the cords in his neck taut with tension. He skewered the guy with one last look that finally did the job. The man stepped back and turned away.

  “Dev, what’s going on?” Scott rose slowly out of his chair. “What am I missing?”

  Devon shook his head, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and hastily putting it on. “Nothing. Guy thought I was someone else. Didn’t like how he got in my face, you know? You ready?”

  The ride back to Scott’s place was quiet, the air thick and strained despite how well Scott thought the night had gone—most of it. Devon stared out the passenger window, his hands folded in his lap. He flinched when Scott reached over and stroked his thigh, but then relaxed and covered Scott’s hand with his own.

  “You okay?” Scott asked, when they stopped at a red light. “Can I help?”

  “I’m fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the evening.” Devon flashed Scott a sheepish grin then went back to staring out into the darkness.

  “That guy…” Scott began.

  Devon sighed heavily before leaning his head against the passenger window. “He reminded me of someone I used to know. I could've handled it better.”

  “He was kinda weird.”

  “Yeah. Light’s green, sweetheart.”

  When they arrived back at Scott’s, Devon mumbled something about a shower before heading off in that direction. He’d given Scott no indication he wanted company, so Scott wasted some time hanging up both their coats, checking his answering machine, and drinking a large glass of water before going to his bedroom. He brought Devon a glass too, surprised to see him sitting on the bed instead of in the shower. He was leaning forward, head resting in his hands, long hair hiding his face from Scott. His clothes were still on and Scott was baffled as to what was going on.

  “Devon?”

  “Hey,” Devon mumbled like he hadn’t heard Scott come in. He lifted his head, but his face showed no signs of brightening. “You wanna shower?”

  Scott moved farther into the room. “No. You go ahead. I’ll
shower in the morning.”

  Devon swept the hair away from his face with another sigh. “I don’t really feel like it either.”

  Scott wanted to go to him, wanted to gather Devon and hug him until whatever bad mood had caught him in its clutches and was sent away. But he held back, worried. “Would you rather go home tonight?”

  Devon cocked his head, the usual sparkle in his eyes replaced by dark clouds. He chewed on his bottom lip then asked, “You want me to?”

  “No,” Scott replied quickly. “I don't want you to think you have to stay.”

  “I always wanna stay, Scott. I think I need some sleep though,” Devon replied, hauling himself to his feet. His actions were more old-mannish than Devonish, and Scott wondered if something was really wrong with him. “I know I promised you could, you know, ravish me?”

  Scott smirked, gliding forward until he was inches from Devon. “The desk’s not going anywhere. I have to get up early for a meeting anyhow, but I’d like you to stay. If you want to.”

  Devon closed the gap, wrapping Scott tightly in his arms in an urgent hug. Scott kissed the side of Devon’s head and nuzzled his neck. “Already told you I want to,” Devon repeated.

  “Let’s go to bed,” Scott suggested. “You need to rest up for all that ravishing.” That drew a small snicker from Devon, the tension easing from his taut body.

  Scott kissed him again before untangling himself and taking a small step back. Devon’s eyes were half-closed, his face drawn and expressionless. “Get your clothes off, mister. You know the naked sleeping rule,” he teased.

  Devon managed a tiny curl of his lips. He yanked his T-shirt over his head then shifted back to Scott, slipping his fingers under the knot of Scott’s tie, gently tugging on the ends. “You’ll have to wear this again.”