by Chris Owen
"There's one here." Trey picked the sleeping one out of his lap. "And there are two over there, disguised as one big lump. Come on, I'll help you collect them and bring them inside." He cradled Six in one muscular forearm and reached for another puppy.
"Thanks." Deuce watched him with the dogs and nodded to himself. Things were going to work out just fine, he thought. It was getting more promising by the minute, really. Dinner, a room to stay, and possible dates... things were fine, indeed.
Six
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Trey muttered profanity and nonsense words to himself as he checked the stuffed artichokes in the oven.
It had sounded like such a good idea at the time. Invite Deuce to stay, bring the dogs, sure you can meet Lacey, come on over for dinner, oh by the way, if we ever go out on a date, I love museums. And hey, here's a shift calendar so you know exactly when I'll be at work and when I'm home.
When the hell did Trey get so desperate?
He'd been doing fine since the divorce. That was two years ago already, and life had gone on. There were guys he'd met and liked, a couple he'd fucked more than once, and one he'd even seen a few times after that. He'd been truthful with Deuce, though. No dates. It was kind of weird, with Lacey and everything. Trey knew the day was coming when he would need to sit down with his daughter and explain to her why Daddy preferred men to women. Holly had already -- without Trey’s permission, mind -- told Lacey that Trey liked boys better than girls. However, it was Trey’s job to explain the why part of that, if possible. Someday.
But then Deuce and his dogs had appeared, and now Trey thought that day might come sooner than he'd expected.
The doorbell rang and a quick look through the window allowed Trey to see Deuce at the door, holding two bottles of wine and looking back at the front yard, his eyes hidden by sun glasses. He was dressed in jeans and short-sleeved blue shirt, open over a white T.
His anxiety dissipated almost instantly. Trey paused just a moment longer to take in the man standing on his doorstep. The blue was nice on him, although Trey thought that Deuce could be wearing pajamas and a robe and still meet with approval. He was really one of the cutest guys Trey had seen in a long time.
Trey opened the door before he realized he was still wearing an oven mitt on his left hand. A black one with red flames on it, to be exact. He hid that hand behind his back and smiled. "Hi. Find it okay?"
"No problem at all." Deuce held up his phone. "GPS navigator and bus schedule," he added with a grin. "And, as promised, my favorite white and my favorite red. Thus the bus -- I didn't want to wind up leaving my car here, so I'm walking the quarter mile back to the bus later." He patted his flat stomach. "I'm pretending that counts as working out."
"Cool." Trey stood back to let him in. "Can I see one of the wines?" He reached forward with the hand that was black and red flame-covered before he remembered.
Deuce grinned and held tight to both bottles. "Nice glove. Way better than any I've ever had."
Trey could feel his cheeks grow hot, and he rolled his eyes. "I'll get you one. They sold them at the department's picnic last summer. Come on in; can I get you something to drink?"
"Depends on how long until we eat. If it's soon, I'll open the wine. If it'll be a while, I'll take a beer. Nice place."
"Thanks. I was lucky to find it when Holly and I separated. At the time I thought it would be too much space, but I like having three bedrooms." Trey led the way into the kitchen and handed Deuce a cold beer from the refrigerator. "Fifteen minutes to chow. Want a tour?"
Deuce opened the bottle and nodded. "Yeah, show all the important parts -- the bathroom and my room. Now that I know where the kitchen is, that's all I need."
Trey almost, almost replied "And my bedroom," but luckily his brain kicked in in time to restrain his tongue. Deuce wasn't moving in to be Trey's new playmate, although Trey had to be honest with himself and admit that the idea had merit.
"Down the hall." Trey gestured with his chin and then headed that way, but not before remembering to drop the oven mitt on the kitchen counter. He opened the first door on the left. "Here's the guest bedroom. It's smaller than Lacey's -- she's next to me -- but you have the attached bath."
"Oh, I like that." Deuce went and looked around. "Is this the east side?" He went to look out the window.
"Uh-huh." Trey leaned against the door jamb and watch Deuce explore the room. "Make sure the blinds are drawn in the morning, trust me."
"Cool. I like it. I like the color." He went to the bathroom and looked in. "Oh, sweet. Storage, even." He grinned at Trey and said, "It's a good thing you already invited me to move in. Show me the rest? Well, aside from Lacey's space, of course."
"You can see her room; neither of us care," Trey laughed. He pushed off the doorway and turned to the room across the hall. He opened Lacey's door to reveal the periwinkle-colored room with puffy white clouds painted across the ceiling and small blue flowers drawn in one corner. "See? It belongs to a seven-year-old." He indicated the full bookshelves next to the bed. "Told you she likes to read."
"That's awesome. I do, too. As you know, library card kidnapper." He looked around and then peered at the bookshelves again. "I think she has more books than me, though. I got her beat on the DVD count, and I bet I can interest you more in those than the princess books. Maybe."
Trey closed her door again and sighed. "Yeah, those princess books are too hard for her, so guess who gets to read them to her at night? And she's always got a new one each time she comes over. But you're right, when I'm home, I watch movies." He moved farther down the hallway and into his own bedroom. "Here's me. My slider leads to the back patio, but you can get there from the kitchen too." Trey glanced around his bedroom, glad that he'd cleaned it up but self-conscious about how simple it really was.
"I'll do my very best not to spy in at you." Deuce smiled, and Trey wasn't sure if he was serious or not. "You might want to make sure your blinds are closed, too. Or not."
Trey could feel his eyebrows go up despite himself. He wasn't the best at knowing when he was being hit on, unless things were rather obvious. Deuce was making them obvious. "I'll see how I feel on a given day," Trey chuckled. "You could be surprised."
"That sounds promising." Deuce lifted his bottle and drank. "So, you're serious? I can move in?"
"Yeah." There, it was done, and Trey felt a sense of relief that he couldn't back out. He actually wanted Deuce to move in, and that realization was something to be explored at a later time. "You can move in. The only condition is that you have three dogs or less when you do, and that includes Q." His carpeting and wood floors were four months old and a man had to draw the line somewhere.
"For sure -- including yours." Deuce nodded. "I think I found homes for two more, by the way. Oh, and can I put a doghouse or a small kennel or a crate or something in the backyard? Somewhere they can play that's all theirs?"
The oven timer went off. Trey nodded and turned back toward the kitchen. "Definitely. Where do you want them to sleep?"
"Q is used to sleeping with me and likes her bed on the floor. The puppies should probably be in a crate for a long time -- it doesn't matter to me where, though if we have two they might want to be together." Deuce followed him and leaned on the counter. "Can I help with anything?"
"Wherever you want to put their crate is fine with me. Lacey will want the puppy to sleep with her, so if you keep another one, they can both go in her room." Trey pulled the stuffed artichokes out of the oven and nodded at the salad dressing ingredients on the counter. "Can you put all of that stuff into the bottle and shake it up? I hope you don't mind homemade dressing. I have regular ranch in the fridge, too."
Deuce did as he was told, pouring carefully. "The added bonus to having them in her room is that once they can hold their pee all night, we can close the door and not have to listen to the middle-of-the-night wrestling matches. You're brilliant."
The baked chicken was bubbling at him, s
o Trey took that from the oven as well and inserted the meat thermometer. "They wrestle at night? Why don't they sleep? Sleep is important." He should know, after all the sleepless nights at work.
"After sharing a room with them for a couple of months, I can promise you that there is wrestling at night. They sleep all day. It's frantic for an hour, then a three hour nap. Repeat." Deuce shook up the bottle of dressing. "Q is ready to have her own space back, I think."
"Poor dog. I should have told you to bring her tonight." Trey got the artichokes on two plates and added a chicken breast, then spooned a bit of creamy dill sauce over the meat. "Chow call. Hungry?"
"Starving. This looks amazing and not at all what I'd expect at a fire station. Corkscrew? This calls for the white, I think."
"Well, we're not at a fire station. But you'll get plenty of that kind of food too, trust me." He got the plates on the table and then opened his junk drawer. A moment or two of digging revealed the corkscrew, which Trey presented to Deuce. "Go ahead. Screw away." Oh, for God's sake. Now that was lame.
"Heh. I see what you did there." Deuce took the corkscrew and put the tip to the top of the cork. "First you stick it in..."
"Then you pull it out." Trey watched as Deuce deftly removed the cork from the bottle. "And then... you sniff the cork or something, right? That's what they do in the movies." He sat and pulled a leaf off his artichoke, proud of himself for engaging in sexual banter. Even if it was a little lame.
"I think that if I sniffed the cork, it would smell like cork." Deuce poured the wine into two glasses and sat. "Really, this is amazing." He started in on the chicken. "I can do a couple of really wow Indian dishes, if you're into that. Spicy or mild, I can do both."
"Never had it, I don't think. Is it like Greek? Holly's family is Greek, and they made amazing food. Almost thought twice about the divorce, just because of her mom's souvlaki." Trey took a sip of wine and tried to find a flavor in it. "This is good."
"Thanks. I like it mostly because it's not too sweet and it doesn't give me headaches after half a glass." Deuce looked like maybe he knew wine wasn't really Trey's thing. "Indian isn't really that much like Greek, but you might like it. It's more like Pakistani. We'll give it a go, anyway. How did you learn how to cook artichokes? I thought they were kind of a fake food, actually."
"I pick up stuff from guys at work. Some of them suck in the kitchen, but some are good. When we have a good meal, I watch whoever's cooking and try to remember it. I like for Lacey to have real food when she's here, not just a kid's meal from the burger place. Can I taste the red one?"
"Absolutely." Deuce got up and grabbed the bottle, uncorking it deftly. "Want a new glass? This one is okay to sit open for a while, too. It likes to breathe, though honestly I usually just drink it."
Trey finished pulling leaves off his artichoke and moved the neat pile of them to the side of his plate. "I guess a new glass, sure. What if I like the red one better? Can I drink it with my dinner anyway? What are the wine laws?"
"Don't know, but there's no wine police." Deuce got another two wine glasses and poured, then brought them and the wine to the table. "If you like it, you drink it. Between the two of us we can sort out what we like, I'm sure."
It sounded like another come-on, and when Trey glanced up to see if he was right, he found Deuce giving him that little smile with a twinkle in his eye. Yup, definitely a come-on.
They both finished their dinner while chatting about nothing of great importance. Trey liked that. Small talk was underrated, especially when you were trying to get to know someone. Deuce was smart and amusing and didn't seem to mind that he and Trey were definitely on two different levels when it came to things like choosing wine.
Trey left the dishes to soak in the sink. "So there's dessert," he offered. "Now or later?"
"Later, I think. Did you like the red or the white?" Deuce still had half a glass of the white, and there wasn't a lot left in either bottle.
"The red. Maybe. The white was good too, and we drank a lot of both." His head was a little fuzzy. Two or three beers could go down no problem, but wine was a different experience.
Deuce nodded, smiling at him. "We did, indeed. It's all part of my cunning plan, though. Luckily, you're following along very well."
"Your plan is to get me to agree to more than three dogs here at a time, I can tell. That's why you brought two bottles." Trey left his flip-flops by the sink and gestured toward the living room. "Come on, we can sit for a while. Then I'll get dessert, which will make you change your mind about my cooking skills."
"You have mad, mad skills, and I in no way want more than three dogs here, trust me." He followed Trey, laughing as they went to the living room. "But I'll make sure to get a couple of bottles of the white every month or so."
Trey flopped onto his couch and reached for the stereo remote. "And a red. For comparison. What music do you like?"
"Any and all, really." Deuce sat down next to him and stretched his legs out. "I went through a stage of being all dance music, then all classic rock. I have Mozart for Sunday afternoons, and African drums for when I want African drums. I like it all."
"I don't have African drums." Trey grinned and turned the stereo to the classic rock station. "Do you dance around to them?"
"Not that any living human will ever see."
Trey chuckled. "I'll have to ask Q, then. Hey, one of our guys plays in a band that hits the local bars and stuff around here. If you ever want to go, it's pretty cool."
"Sounds good to me." Deuce nodded. "Do you dance?"
"Not really. I observe." Trey leaned his head back on the couch and turned it so he could see Deuce. "Watching people is way more entertaining for me." Wow, they were sitting closer than he'd thought. Trey could see that Deuce's eyes weren't brown, as he'd first thought. More hazel, with little flecks of gold. Nice.
"And what do you learn, when you're watching people?" Deuce was looking back, smiling a little. He didn't seem nervous at all, not even slightly. "Or do you just go for the entertainment value, watching people be dumb to impress each other?"
"It's both." Either the wine was going to his head, or Trey was relaxed enough to feel warm all over. Their feet were almost touching and Trey could feel the heat of Deuce's body next to him on the couch. "But I learn the most while I'm at work, from the calls we get. It lets me profile people. Then I judge them while I'm out at a bar."
"And what kind of things do you judge?" Deuce's smile grew, and he seemed to lean in a bit.
Trey leaned in too, almost without realizing it. "If they're pretending to have money. If they're trying to show off. If they're just out to have fun or if they want something else." Their heads were very close together now.
"I don't see the point in pretending to have money -- that illusion can't last. Want to have some fun?" Deuce's gaze dropped and then came back up, leaving Trey with the impression that he'd just lost a layer of clothes without even noticing.
"With you?" Oh, Christ. Of course Deuce meant him. Trey was totally not used to this direct hit thing.
Deuce laughed softly. "How about dessert? More wine?"
"If I drink more wine, I'll sleep through my alarm tomorrow. But dessert, sure." Trey hesitated for a second, unsure if he'd read the moment correctly.
Deuce looked him over again and smiled, the twinkle kicking up a notch. "I'm probably going to kiss you, if you don't go take care of dessert right now. Just so you know."
Get up. Get up, get up, get up, his conscience said, get up now and take yourself out of what could be a really difficult situation.
Trey didn't, of course. He stayed where he was and let his gaze drop to Deuce's mouth, then back up again. The thing was, he wanted to be kissed. "In a second," Trey whispered. "I'll get it in a second."
"Okay." Deuce nodded. "You ponder it for a few minutes." Then he leaned the few remaining inches and kissed Trey's mouth, soft and slow. Then he did it again.
It
was everything Trey was asking for, even if his conscience was sighing and shaking its head at him. Trey didn't care. Deuce's mouth was warm, and he smelled good, and the wine was letting Trey do stuff that he normally would have kept in check. This was his future roommate, after all.
Deuce was a really good kisser, though. Trey lifted a hand to cup the back of his Deuce's and found his hair to be soft and. Trey shifted a bit on the couch to get closer and opened his mouth slightly, letting his tongue touch the edges of Deuce's lips.
The kiss grew deeper, Deuce apparently taking Trey's touches for a signal of some kind. He let Trey in and tasted back, one hand on Trey's arm. He brushed Trey's jaw and cheek before settling his hand back on Trey's bicep, and Trey felt more than heard a very soft sound of pleasure.
The tiny noise went straight to his cock. One electric jolt of sensation right from his mouth to his groin, and all because Deuce was kissing him and apparently enjoying it. Trey hadn't thought a simple kiss would be this... this... detailed. There was sound and sense and taste and Trey wanted to absorb it all, then get more.
So, he went for more. The gentle tasting of each other that they were doing with their tongues turned into exploring each other's mouths. Trey discovered that Deuce not only knew how to kiss, but had probably majored in it or something. The guy was doing stuff with just his tongue that Trey didn't even know was possible.
Deuce didn't even come up for air so much as he granted a slight reprieve and then took Trey's senses over again. The hand on Trey's arm squeezed gently and then moved to slide around to Trey's back, pulling them closer together. It stayed there, warm and heavy in the hollow above his waist, anchoring him in place.
It was only after another minute or two of kissing that Trey managed to engage his brain. He pulled back slightly, regretting it for a moment when he heard Deuce make a sound of protest, but putting distance between them all the same. "You're supposed to live here," Trey said quietly. Deuce was just inches from his face and making it hard to think. "This isn't smart. Is it?" He knew the answer to his own question but asked it anyway.