by Lynn Stark
“I’ll just go wash my hands.”
Neville was back in a couple of minutes. He pulled a chair out and sat down. His stomach growled embarrassingly loud as he took the tongs Deacon offered him and chose his chicken.
“If you want more fries,” Deacon told him, “I can make always make more.”
There were freshly made biscuits and a bear filled with honey on the table, as well as a bowl of green beans with bits of bacon. “I think this will be more than enough. But we’ll see.”
A moan escaped Neville as he bit through the crispy golden layer and into the tender meat beneath. He chewed and swallowed. “Oh my gosh! This is the best chicken I’ve ever eaten! And you said you couldn’t cook,” Neville reminded him, slightly accusing.
“Thanks. It’s a family recipe.”
“It tastes a lot like the chicken at the Silver Spur Saloon, which I formerly believed was the best chicken ever.”
Deacon laughed. “That would be the family. I used to work in the kitchen at the saloon, when I was a teen. I’d be kicked out of the family, if I couldn’t manage to make the fried chicken we’re famous for.”
“Your family owns the place?”
“Yes. The building was built by my great-great-great-grandfather. He operated a saloon and trading post from it and built on as he needed room. Other generations built upward. For a time, there was a brothel upstairs. That ended in the forties. Then it was turned into what it is today, a saloon and restaurant.”
“That’s cool. I love learning stuff like that.”
“I’ll have to take you in to meet my father, uncles, and aunt.”
Neville nodded. “I’d like that.” After stuffing himself with chicken and the sides, Neville didn’t know if he would ever be able to move again. It was becoming a common theme, whenever they ate together. He rubbed his stomach. “That was absolutely delicious. When I’m rich and famous, I’ll hire you as my personal chef. You can make fried chicken every day.”
“What else will you have me do?” Deacon’s voice was slightly deeper than normal. Neville glanced up, his gaze locking with the dark gray orbs.
The flash of heat over his skin, when an image of Deacon spanking him entered his mind, was almost enough to set him afire. Neville fanned himself and looked everywhere but at Deacon until his horniness passed. He ignored the obvious sexual innuendo and blew out a breath.
“Do you know how to mix drinks? I’d like one of those blue ones or something with coconut rum in it.”
Deacon chuckled. “Neville, do you even drink?”
“Uh, not often, but some of them sound delicious. They look delicious, too.” Neville finally looked at the man seated across from him. “I got some good news today,” he told Deacon, changing the subject to one less precarious. He was so close to begging the other man to put his handcuffs to good use. Swallowing hard as his dick began to spring to life, he finished breathlessly, “Marley came to see me while I was at the studio. She said I could move into the apartment and that the foundation that arranged for me to come to Silver will be paying half the rent for a year. I’m also getting a show at the gallery and a booth on the green during the Summer Nights Festival.”
“That’s fantastic. So, I guess this means you’re moving out.”
Deacon sounded sincere, making Neville feel good about the future. “Pitbull and I already cleaned out my apartment. I didn’t see any reason to delay. I just have to move what I brought here and almost everything from the studio. I forgot a few things I was keeping in the closet.”
“I have tomorrow off. I can help you do that.” He paused, and then said carefully, “I’m glad you get to do this, but I’ll still worry about you. We don’t know where those jerk brothers are.”
The words of concern increased Neville’s feelings for the other man. There was a distinct possibility that he was falling in love.
“Thanks for worrying, but I think I’ll be okay. The building is secure. There are alarms and cameras, and you have to have a code to get in. Marley even changed the lock on the apartment.”
Neville waited. He wanted Deacon to say that they would continue to hang out together. It was fun. Neville had never had such a good friend before. It was life-changing, and he didn’t want to lose what they had been building together.
“I’m still going to come around to check on you myself. It would be a good idea for you to have one of the guys with you when you go to school or work, though.”
He nearly sagged in relief.
“Okay, if that’ll make you happy.”
The smile Deacon gave Neville was one that made him want to see it every day for the rest of his life. Maybe that could happen.
“It will. Now, how about a slice of strawberry pie with whipped cream for dessert? I picked it up from the store, so I can’t take any credit for making it.”
“Seriously dude?” Neville looked down at his stomach. It was pushed out, filled with fries and fried chicken. “I don’t know if I have the room for it.”
Laughing, Deacon stood and went to the refrigerator. Neville began picking up plates. He carried them to the sink. He would miss doing dishes each night with Deacon. It had been homey, as if they were becoming domesticated partners. He could dream.
“I’m sure you can manage a small piece.”
Neville watched as Deacon sliced the pie. He removed one piece and placed it on a plate. “I can probably handle that.”
He took two forks out of the drawer and carried his plate to the table. Then he went back for Deacon’s. His slice was twice as large. That made sense. The man was at least twice Neville’s size. As he turned back from setting it on the table, he saw that Deacon had a can of whipped cream. The man grinned and proceeded to cover Neville’s pie with a huge mound of creamy goodness. Neville almost drooled. He laughed and grabbed the can, aiming it at Deacon’s slice.
When Deacon retrieved the can and tipped his head back to fill his mouth with whipped cream, Neville stomped his foot. “No fair!”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth when Deacon wrapped a muscled arm around him and pulled him close. The next thing he knew Deacon kissed him, sharing the whipped cream and causing Neville to moan with a pleasure he’d never experienced before. It was a sweet, passionate, messy kiss. Neville’s eyes were closed, his dick was hard, and Deacon’s tongue was everywhere. It swept through his mouth, explored, dipped, and licked the remnants of whipped cream from Neville’s lips as he was transported off into a fantasy world that included Deacon, a bed, candles, and a dozen cans of whipped cream.
He sighed when Deacon finally released him and would have fallen, if Deacon hadn’t steadied him when he wobbled. Opening his eyes, Neville blinked up at the other man. “Give a guy some warning next time, will ya? That move should be illegal in all fifty states and Puerto Rico.”
Deacon laughed, obviously pleased with himself. Then he winked and released Neville. When he moved away, Neville felt the loss immediately. They sat down to eat their slices of strawberry pie. He’d enjoyed Deacon’s touch. And the whipped cream kiss? That had taken him somewhere he had never gone before. Could he expect more of that kind of thing, if they became involved?
That thought made Neville pause. While he didn’t see Deacon as a guy who was the casual flirt kind of guy, Neville had to wonder if he would be interested in having a very long-term relationship with Neville. Did Deacon see Neville as a man he would want to have in his life forever? Because that was what Neville wanted for himself. He had already done the casual sex, boyfriend thing. It hadn’t worked out, and Neville didn’t want to go through that kind of humiliation again. He understood he hadn’t given the men the attention they deserved, by spending so much time working, so it would take a special kind of man to accept him the way he was. Investing more into a relationship than a partner, always made things lopsided. If Deacon was interested, Neville was fairly certain the man had what it took to keep his interest. He was that special.
“Do you want to wash
or dry?”
I want to marry you.
The words almost left Neville’s mouth. He blushed. “I’ll dry.”
Deacon chuckled. “Someday soon, you’ll have to tell me why you blush so much. I want to know what’s going through that head of yours.”
Neville shuddered. His dick was still hard. “Not in this lifetime.”
Deacon’s robust laughter filled the room as he began to run water into the sink.
Crisis averted.
Chapter Six
It was two in the morning when Deacon woke up to frigid air on his face. A frown of confusion turned into a scowl as he realized what had happened. The furnace had taken a dump. The furnace repairman had warned Harry that the fix wouldn’t last long. He needed to replace the ancient furnace before it became a complete hazard. That was one reason why Deacon had doubled the number of carbon monoxide, and combination smoke and fire detectors, on both levels of the small house.
“Son of a bitch!” Deacon all but growled the words as he tossed the blanket back and shoved his feet in slippers. He didn’t own a robe and wished now that he did so. It would have helped. “I’m going to wring Harry’s neck.”
Deacon opened the door to find Neville standing in the narrow hall, wrapped in a blanket, with his fist raised to knock on the door. “It’s c-c-cold.”
“Yeah, baby, it is. Why don’t you get dressed? That’ll help. I have a couple of calls to make.”
Neville nodded and retreated to his room.
Deacon made the call to Harry and to the furnace guy. Harry actually didn’t sound too interested. The furnace guy, and his three associates, were on calls already. Harry’s rental property was put on the list. It was low-priority because there weren’t any children or elderly living in it. Deacon could understand that.
“Deacon, let’s make the move to my apartment. I don’t have that much stuff. You know that. And you can stay there until the furnace gets fixed and the place warms up.”
“Hell will freeze over by then. My cousin Harry is a major ass. He won’t be willing to part with several thousand dollars for a new furnace and the installation.”
“What other choice does he have?” Neville asked before cupping his hands and blowing into them.
Knowing he had a decision to make, Deacon made it. “You’re as smart as you are cute. I’ll help you move to your apartment. Now is as good a time as any. Get your things to the door. I’ll start the truck and let it warm up. Then I’ll go open the taps a little to keep the water moving. I don’t want the water lines to freeze up.”
He went into the bathroom and turned on the taps. It was just a trickle, but it would be enough. Running water normally didn’t freeze. He passed Neville’s room and glanced in. A grin pulled at his mouth. Neville was making the bed.
Deacon walked into the kitchen, ready to open the cabinets under the sink, when he saw water running under the doors and close to his feet. He swore again and opened the cabinet. As he did so, the pipe burst and water sprayed him in the face, something that did not improve his mood at all. He should have kicked Harry’s ass a long time ago.
The swearing continued when he saw that there wasn’t a shut-off valve under the sink. He would have to go down to the basement. When he did so, he discovered other water lines had burst. None of them had been insulated. Montana experienced extreme temperatures. His jerk landlord hadn’t taken any precautions to protect his investment. Deacon shut off the water where it came into the house.
His next move was to abandon the place. He would treat himself and get a room at the Silver Star Hotel for a few nights. It only took a few minutes to pack two of his suitcases. He took them outside and threw them in the back seat of the truck before he started it and went back inside. Neville was all bundled up and sitting on the edge of the couch, his bag and guitar at his feet.
“Take as much stuff as you want. You can stay with me for a while. I have the feeling you’re going to be looking for a new place,” he commented wryly. “It makes sense that you live with me until you find something else. After all, you did let me crash here the last couple of weeks.”
“It might take a while. The housing is somewhat limited this time of the year. A lot of houses are rented by vacationers.”
Neville waved a mitten-covered hand. “There’s no rush, is there? The apartment has two roomy bedrooms. You’ll be comfortable. Anyway, I like your company.”
“You do, huh?” Deacon chuckled. “Okay, you talked me into it. I was going to stay at the Silver Star Hotel, but staying with you will work, too.”
“Pack as much stuff as you want. I’ll help you move it.”
The sun was rising over the mountains when they finally finished moving all of Deacon’s belongings from the rental. They were there on their last visit when the furnace repairman showed up. They let him in, Deacon telling him that he should call Harry about anything he needed to know, because Deacon no longer lived there and had no interest in the place. With the exception of getting his deposit back, of course. For that he definitely would kick the man’s ass, if he failed to promptly hand it over.
After listening to Deacon’s side of the conversation during his second call to his cousin, he was fairly certain the man would return the deposit. Deacon wasn’t taking any more of his bullshit. The guy sounded like a major jerk.
“Do you want some more coffee?” Neville asked Deacon after they stripped off their winter gear and hung it by the door.
“No, I’m beat. I just want something light to eat, then I’m hitting the sack.”
Neville yawned hugely. “Me, too. I don’t have to work today.”
Deacon looked around the huge loft. It could have been leased out for thousands a month. Neville had gotten it for a very small fraction of that. If that wasn’t enough, all of the rooms were furnished with the basics. The generosity of the people living in Silver never failed to fill Deacon with pleasure and pride. Those people were the best reason it was a great place to live.
“Sit down, sweetheart. I’ll fix us each eggs and toast.”
His cooking skills had improved since Neville had moved in with him and began showing him how to cook different things. It wasn’t fair that Neville should have to do all the cooking. Now he would put his new skills to use again. His roommate wouldn’t be able to tease him about how the eggs resembled rubber in consistency. Those days were behind him.
Neville sat down at the kitchen table and laid his head on his folded arms. As Deacon cracked eggs into a pan, he heard soft snores coming from Neville. He smiled and dropped slices of bread into the toaster. Moving all the groceries he had brought had been a pain in the ass, but there had been no way he was leaving them behind to freeze or thaw, depending on the item.
When his stomach grumbled he added a package of turkey sausage links, browning them until they were crispy on the outside. That’s when Neville woke from his nap. He lifted his head, sniffed the air, and then licked his lips as he looked at Deacon.
Although he knew the action was in anticipation for the food, Deacon fantasized about Neville desiring him enough to lick his lips. Deacon plated their food, hoping Neville didn’t see that he had a hard-on. His damn dick wasn’t going to behave with fuel like that. Having Neville’s plump lips wrapped around his aching flesh was high on his list of things to do with the other man.
“Oh, this is so good,” Neville told Deacon as he ran a piece of toast through the egg yolk. “I’m glad you made the sausage, too. I’ll sleep well on a full belly.”
“How long to do you plan to sleep?”
Narrow shoulders shrugged. “Four or five hours. I don’t want to sleep too long. It should be enough to refresh me.”
The phone Deacon had left on the counter began to chime. He knew who it was and had no plans to talk to his cousin again. Harry wasn’t happy that he had moved out of the house, and that he expected his deposit to be returned within the next twenty-four hours.
“You’re not going to answer that?”
“You don’t like your cousin?”
“I like my cousin Harry fine. It’s landlord Harry that I can’t stand. He’s too tight-fisted.”
Neville nodded and picked up his plate before he stood. “I know people like that. My dad’s brother won’t spend an extra cent, if it’s not necessary. He says he’s saving it all for retirement, but his family goes without a lot of things it could use.” Neville sighed and shook his head. “I’ll wash these later.” He yawned and walked toward the rear of the loft apartment. “See you later, Deacon. If you stay up, don’t worry, you won’t wake me. I’ll be out like a light.”
“Good to know. Have a good sleep.”
Deacon didn’t go to bed, but stretched out on the long sofa. He closed his eyes, unbothered by the light beginning to fill the room as the sun rose higher in the sky. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought about how much he liked to kiss Neville. It was a pleasant way to fall asleep. Hopefully soon, he could fall asleep with Neville tucked close in his arms.
Deacon woke up to the sight of a naked Neville standing at an easel and painting. He closed his eyes, and then opened only one. Yep, still there, still naked. The other eye opened, and he stared. He wasn’t stupid, after all.
“Uh, why are you naked?”
Neville spun around, the paint palette in one hand and a brush in the other. The man was gorgeous from the top of his head to the tips of his cute little pink toes. The only thing he was wearing was an impudent grin.
“I haven’t gotten to paint in the nude since leaving home. I shared the studio downstairs with several other artists. You don’t mind, do you?”
Deacon had to clear his throat before he answered. “No. No, not at all.”
Neville’s grinned broadened. “Cool. Thanks.”
Swinging his feet to the floor, Deacon stood. He walked to the windows in front. The view was spectacular, of course. But he wanted to be certain that no one was getting the reverse view, which was equally spectacular, of Neville’s nude body. Some things just shouldn’t be seen by anyone but him.