The Drumbeat of His Heart

by M. C. Roth

  “Hey, ladies!” he called out as he peeked into the back.

  “You got a chick back here? I thought you said you were gay.”

  Trent started at the voice that came from right behind him. He turned to Ian with a smile at the wording. “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve got a chick back here. Three, actually.” The gate gave a rusty screech as he pushed it open the rest of the way.

  The setting sun sent a trickle of light through the trees to sparkle on the dew-dropped grass. It was a good-sized space that was complete with a garden, a shed, as well as with his ‘chicks’. Trent spent most of his time back here, sprawled across the lawn chair on the small stone patio.

  The moment the gate opened, two feathery blurs darted towards them. Trent bent down to scoop the nearest one into his arms and she greeted him with an excited squawk before she tried to wriggle free.

  “Hey, girlie. You’re all wet.” Her silver feathers were clumped to her thin neck, giving her an appearance similar to that of a turkey vulture. Her tail feathers somehow remained fluffy though. Dirt from her claws scraped against his already-soiled hoodie. “Someone’s been digging in the garden again.”

  “You have chickens in your back yard? Holy shit, I am trapped in the boondocks.” Ian’s eyes darted around the space in something akin to terror.

  Trent chuckled as he kissed the top of Lavender’s head before releasing her. Pourquoi was already pecking at his exposed ankle bone, while Cadbury, the third chicken, was in the back corner of the yard, rooting in the compost pile.

  “You want to pet her? She’s super friendly,” he asked Ian. Ian’s terror had morphed into wide-eyed surprise and his hands were gripped into fists at his sides.

  “Are you supposed to pet chickens? Don’t they have diseases and stuff?” Ian shifted from one foot to the other as he looked at Pourquoi, who was already moving in close to inspect the unfamiliar shoe laces. He took a step back as she came within pecking distance.

  “Here,” Trent scooped up Lavender again and held her out. “Hold your arms up like you want to cradle a baby. Yes, like that.” He moved in close before slowly lowering her into Ian’s arms. His hand brushed against the warm, vulnerable skin inside Ian’s wrist, tingling at the point of contact. With a tiny gasp, he pulled away as if he’d been bitten.

  It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Trent had met and slept with attractive men before, but none of them had made him feel so out of his element. Trent was usually the suave Dom who could flirt and pick up any guy in a bar, while completely keeping his cool. Now, he felt like he might pop wood at any moment.

  Dexterous fingertips carded through the damp feathers and tickled the tiny beard under Lavender’s chin. Ian turned to him in shock. It was like the man had never seen a chicken before, let alone been to a petting zoo.

  “She’s so soft.” Ian’s voice was so deep and warm that it sent a thrill down Trent’s spine. That tone was something that should’ve been reserved for the bedroom.

  “Yeah,” Trent cleared his throat. “That’s Lavender. She loves pets. Pourquoi would be happy to peck you all day and Cadbury is a loner.” He pointed off to the corner of the back yard, where Cadbury had found something layered in the dirt. “Can you hold her while I check on the horses?”

  “Shit, you have horses too?” Ian cried, his eyes going wide before skimming around the yard again.

  Trent burst out laughing, a bit of awkwardness disappearing. “Nope. I totally had you, man.” He shook his head and wandered over to their small coop.

  With Lavender sufficiently petted and their food topped up, Trent headed back around the house and inside. Ian followed him, looking back every few seconds to catch another glimpse of the birds.

  Trent sighed as he finally set foot inside the warm, dry house. Without a second thought, he pulled his sweater and T-shirt over his head in one motion. Water flew from his hair as he tugged his shirt free, soaking his damp back and chest. The shirt was dripping onto the floor already, leaving a spreading smudge on the blue mat. He would have to wring it over the sink before he hung it over the back of his kitchen chair to dry. Or maybe he would chuck it straight into the laundry and hopefully the grit would come out.

  The door clicked shut behind him, knocking him out of his train of thought. He looked back to Ian, who was still standing just inside on the mat, his soaked shoes leaving an imprint on the rug. Ian was staring at his naked chest with open surprise.

  Trent bit his lip to smother a groan. Stripping at the door was something that he would do normally if he came home wet or gross from work. Dropping his clothes then heading for the shower was the highlight of his bachelor life. He was so tired that the move had been completely automatic.

  Ian’s eyes were burning bright, leaving him feeling completely naked as his gaze wandered up and down. There was a hint of pink on Ian’s cheekbones that could’ve been real or part of Trent’s exhaustion-induced imagination.

  “Sorry,” Trent said, unsure why he was apologizing. It was his house, after all. “I’m gonna have a shower. I’ll make dinner once I’m out, and I’ll see if I can find something that will fit you.” There had to be something in the depths of his closet that would fit those shoulders.

  “Did that hurt?” asked Ian. His eyes flickered down Trent’s chest, where the silver barbel passed through his nipple.

  “Like a motherfucker,” said Trent, borrowing the phrase from Ian. The blush on Ian’s face deepened into a rosy red.

  “Were you drunk?” Ian’s eyes flickered up to his face before going back to the piercing. Blue bled away to black.

  The small bit of exhibitionist in Trent was loving the attention, and his dick twitched beneath the sodden layer of clothes. He shifted to angle away slightly, hoping that Ian hadn’t noticed. Talk about awkward. “Stone cold sober. My sister convinced me to get it done on my thirtieth birthday.”

  “What if it gets caught on something? Ouch, man.” Ian shook his head, winced and brought his hand up to touch his chest.

  “I’ve only got it caught in somebody else’s teeth, which really isn’t that bad. Trust me.” Trent wanted to smack his palm to his forehead in embarrassment. He looked up at the ceiling, willing the flush off his face. If a hole opened up in the earth right now, he would gladly jump in. “Do you want a drink?” Trent asked, trying to change the subject, but somehow still making it sound like a pick-up line. Getting changed was the priority, but he wasn’t about to offer to get naked in the kitchen.

  “I, um.” Ian cleared his throat and seemed to shrink back a few steps. “I don’t drink.” He dipped down to tug the shoes from his feet, setting them at the side of the mat when he noticed the tray was already full.

  “I meant water,” said Trent, holding back a laugh that threatened to escape. He watched as Ian flushed and shrugged.

  “I thought you meant something else. Usually when someone offers to buy me a drink, it’s on the rocks.” Ian shook his head and smiled.

  “I would definitely buy you one if I had the chance, but I’ll give you the free stuff from the tap for now, if that’s okay.” Trent turned away and nearly ran to the kitchen to get away from the words that he had just said. His mouth was running away from him and he couldn’t seem to get it back under control.

  Ian didn’t look like he wanted to punch him when he came around the corner, but he certainly wasn’t at ease either. He glanced from the old cupboards that squeaked every time they opened and closed to the blue speckled countertop that didn’t match any kitchen decor in the known world. The small gas stove, which was Trent’s pride and joy in the room, was stark white, but matched the fridge, at least.

  Ian took the offered glass and polished it off in a few quick swallows. A bead of moisture dripped down his neck and his throat bobbed as he did. The sight made Trent suddenly wish he’d poured a glass for himself. He leaned back against the counter instead, still clutching his sodden shirt.

  “Do you get offered drinks often?” asked Trent. Ian
looked like a man who would have anyone flocking to him at the first sign of availability.

  Ian looked Trent up and down as he set his glass on the counter next to the double sink. “Do you?” His eyes settled back on the piercing and he drew his lips tight.

  “I always leave room for one more drink,” said Trent. He needed to stop or there was no way he would get back to this side of sanity.

  “Anyway, I’m heading to the shower. I’ll be out in a few. Make yourself at home.” Trent gripped his wet clothes tight to keep himself from doing anything he would regret later.

  Christ, the way Ian was looking at him, with his eyes dark and his shirt stretched so tight across his chest, made him want to drop to his knees and start worshipping. But that would probably mean that he would start off his weekend with a broken nose, which was not the way he wanted it to go. Best to just shower and try not to think of the hunk of a man on the other side of the thin door.

  Chapter Three

  Trent pushed his back against the bathroom door and slid down the wooden surface until he was sitting on the cold linoleum floor. His head hit the door with a soft thunk as he let out a loud sigh. The room was tiny, with just enough space for a toilet, a sink and a small shower. The walls were light yellow—a colour he had picked out of a magazine. The countertop was a deep black speckled with silver tones that had been taking up space in a clearance section before it made the trip to his house.

  “What the hell was I thinking?” he whispered into the quiet bathroom. The humming fan answered him with a steady warble. Ian was so far out of his league that he may as well have been on another continent. And by his reaction, the guy was definitely straight. Trent had no dinging gaydar, just forlorn longing for Ian to keep him company in the cold bathroom.

  He pulled himself to his feet and peeled his wet pants off before letting them slide to the ground. They splattered on the fake tile.

  He moved to his boxers next, pulling them down to let his cock free with a hopeful bounce. He was half-hard and well on his way to full mast with the way his thoughts had been turning. He could imagine Ian pulling his shirt over his head, revealing every inch of damp skin. Trent would’ve dropped his shorts right there in the hallway. He would’ve let Ian push him against the wall and slip his hand down the front of his boxers.

  “Christ.” Trent gripped his cock in his hand, now hard with a pearl of milky pre-cum at the tip. He tugged it once, hissing at the sensation before he forced his hand away. He couldn’t jerk off with a stranger on the other side of the door—a stranger who was waiting in wet clothes that were cold and uncomfortable, wet clothes that clung to thick biceps like they were the best thing that they’d ever felt. They probably were. Those arms looked strong enough to lift Trent as though he weighed nothing. Something about that sent another thrill of desire down to his groin.

  A six-foot figure like himself, strong and tall with deep brown eyes, was always expected to be the top and the leader in the bedroom and out. He was usually fine with that when he picked someone up at a bar or club. He would push into them and they would grip him like the best kind of home. He would set the pace and bring his partner to orgasm before he had his own, because getting them off was important to him.

  Just once, he wanted someone to take care of him, to want him, to dominate him.

  Trent shook his head and forced himself into the lukewarm shower spray. He longed to turn the temperature warmer but didn’t want to empty the small hot water tank. It held just enough for him in a rushed onceover but would leave nothing behind for his guest. The water felt especially cold against his sensitive cock, which throbbed and twitched under the assault.

  “Go away,” he hissed through his teeth as he stared down at his cock. It didn’t listen, simply bouncing along as he scrubbed with body wash. He gritted his teeth and tried to imagine a plethora of disgusting things, but his mind kept coming back to the stranger in his house.

  The way Ian had blushed when Trent pulled his shirt over his head, and how his throat had bobbed as he swallowed long and hard… There was a look there, one that Trent hadn’t imagined. For a brief second, there seemed to be interest…or at least curiosity.

  He needed to get laid more often. He was obviously long overdue if he was imagining reactions like that to a little bit of skin.

  “Shut up.” He pressed his face to the cold shower wall. “Even if he’s gay, there is no way he would be interested in you.” He’d never been called sexy once in his life. Big…yes. Powerful…yep. But never attractive and never sexy. He was just a touch too gangly and his hair just a bit too brown to be anything but average.

  The soft knock at the door was nearly lost to the sound of water pounding next to his head. The knock came again as Trent plunged his head under the stream of water, so while he thought he’d heard something, it really didn’t amount to anything to pay attention to. When he pulled back, he nearly screamed at the sound of a voice so close.

  “Was that an invitation?”

  Trent peered past the grey shower curtain towards the sound. He clung to the fabric just to see if he was still awake and not in a dream. Ian was standing there, blocking the doorway with the width of his shoulders. The top of his bald head was just shy of skimming off the door frame. His dark, clinging shirt was gone, leaving a stretch of bare skin behind. He looked like a fucking sculpture.

  The tattoo on his head was not the only one. There was a dark swirling rose over his left pec and a smattering of words along his ribcage. The words were the freshest, still black and without the faded green quality the others had. Below the tat was a long scar that was still curled and angry red.

  He could only be described as beautiful—but in a masculine way. Every bit of skin was tanned, with muscles spreading underneath, tight and strong. A full minute of open-mouthed staring passed before Trent realized that Ian had asked him something. Ian had shifted back in the silence and looked just about ready to close the door before Trent finally managed to speak again.

  “Yes,” he said, slow and slurred as if he was four quarters on his way to being drunk.

  Ian smirked, stepping fully into the room and pulling at the buckle of his belt. There was no shyness or hesitation…only smooth confidence. It was like that word had changed something fundamental in the man, and Trent was finally seeing him for the first time.

  Trent ducked behind the thin curtain and pressed his back into the cold wall. His cock throbbed at the mere thought of the man undressing on the other side. He couldn’t bear to watch for fear of coming with the slightest touch.

  A tightness settled into his gut at the same time. This was a stranger—a much larger and stronger stranger. He was fine with picking up guys who were smaller than him, as he always felt safe that he would never be forced. He knew nothing about this guy other than the car he drove. And now he was naked with nothing more than a five-dollar shower curtain between them.

  “Is it okay if I come in?” Ian called from the other side of the curtain. His hand was already curled around the corner of the plastic, ready to pull it open at a moment’s notice.

  “Yes,” Trent managed.

  The curtain ripped back with a screech of cheap metal on metal. His vision was filled with tanned skin and curved muscles. Ian’s chest was almost hairless, with a smattering of thin dark-blond curls between his pecs. The hair trailed down in a thin line to a neatly trimmed groin. His legs were covered in the same fine blond hair.

  Trent settled on the prize that he had avoided looking at on the first pass. He always liked to save the best for last. It was the same reason he saved his red Smarties and green Skittles.

  Ian’s jutting cock was perfectly nestled within the blond hair. It was thick, hard and completely proportionate in every way. He was cut, and the mushroom head was already flushed bright red. The thick vein along the bottom of the shaft pulsed as it rapidly inflated.

  He looked back up to Ian’s face. The man was doing his own assessment, with his gaze trailing up and d
own Trent’s body. He paused at Trent’s hard cock and the looping piercing through the crown.

  “Did you get that one before or after the nipple piercing?” Ian asked as he took his first step into the shower.

  “Same day. They had two people working on me at the same time. They were afraid that I was going to pass out.” Trent moved back along the wall and out of the way. It would be a tight squeeze with the two of them in the shower, but he would happily let Ian invade his space. Heat was rushing to his skin and painting his whole body a flushed rose.

  “Shit, that’s cold.” The first spray of water hit Ian and he shrank back. His nipples went rock hard and his skin peaked from the sudden chill.

  “Sorry.” Trent reached for the tap and turned the temperature up to where it would normally be if he were alone. The move put his back to Ian, who was quick to move in.

  “Were you thinking about me in here as you were taking a cold shower?” Ian mouthed at his ear as his chest met the length of Trent’s back. Ian settled his large hands at Trent’s waist before wrapping around and moving lower along the slick plane of skin. The man was a wall of heat and strength behind him.

  “Yes.” Trent bit off a moan as Ian went straight for his cock with a callused palm. The man held him with the perfect amount of pressure that was just on the right side of too much. One slide from base to tip and Trent was arching his back and thrusting his hips into the grip.

  “I was thinking about you too when I was standing there out in the cold,” said Ian as he moved down to mouth at Trent’s neck. “You telling me on the street that you’re gay and want to shack up for the night. Next thing I know, you’re getting naked when we’re just inside the door. I’ve never got so hard so fast.”

  “Fuck, please,” said Trent as a hot mouth bit down on his shoulder. His cock throbbed and his stomach fluttered as he grew closer to the edge. “Can we go to the bedroom? Please?” He said the words that were usually being said to him.