The Story of Us

by Logan Meredith

  He paused, and I lifted my palm to rest against his cheek. “He sounds like my dad.”

  “Tell me.”

  “My folks are great, too. My parents are happily married. They retired to San Diego. Our family was…average, I guess.”

  “Average—you like that word.”

  “It’s usually accurate when describing most things about me.”

  Lucas shook his head. “Kyle, you’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I know so. I’m also getting hungry. You ready for dinner?”

  My stomach growled right on cue. Lucas rubbed my belly and leaned over to kiss my cheek. The gesture sent my heart into my throat. He was…ugh…too damn sweet. We kissed again, and I’d tugged him until he rested on top of me. Another growl erupted from my stomach. With a soft chuckle, Lucas said, “Enough of that. Let’s get you fed.”

  At that moment, I knew all the rules I’d set to make our crazy fling remotely compatible with my feelings about relationships… Yeah, those were entirely fucking worthless.

  Chapter Seven

  It turned out that Lucas’ lips were, in fact, impossible to say no to.

  At first, the weekdays became a black hole of time neither of us acknowledged. I spent mine working, meeting Steve to finish an overwhelming amount of complicated case studies for class and trying not to obsess about Lucas. On the weekends, we spent time together, mostly hanging out and talking about all the things we wanted to do but rarely leaving my bedroom. I loved how smoothly our energy flowed from silly to serious to sexy and back again. It was as though some emotional USB connection kept synchronizing our moods.

  Some weeks into our summer class, I gave up trying to limit our time to the weekends. We’d meet for dinner after class, and unless one of us had some unescapable commitment, we were together.

  We were enjoying a lazy afternoon, taking advantage of a rare homework-free weekend. Lucas was on my couch, his feet stretched over my lap while I watched television. A quick glance at the iPad propped up on a couch pillow over his chest told me he was on Twitter, happily tapping away. I respected that he liked to engage with his followers, but it was an unwelcomed reminder of what I was working so hard to ignore.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I never did hide my emotions very well. I nodded and diverted my attention to the television.

  “I don’t have to do this right now,” he offered.

  “It’s fine,” I answered unconvincingly. I fixated on the commercial, knowing if I looked at him even once, he’d know where my head was at. Neither of us had reopened the conversation about what would happen at the end of the summer. “I should probably go for a run or something. We’ve been couch potatoes all day.”

  Lucas sat up, tapped his screen to open the weather app and frowned. “It’s too hot now. Let’s wait till the sun goes down.”

  “I’m kind of restless. Need to do something.”

  Whatever annoyance Lucas felt about my suggestion evaporated with a few more clicks of his iPad. “Perfect,” he declared, stood and grabbed his shoes.

  “For?”

  “Just grab your running shoes and trust me.”

  The instructions sent a chill up my spine. The truth was, I was a planner. I never went to the grocery store without a list, never made a big purchase without consulting consumer reviews and never set out for a run without a route in mind. But one peek at Lucas—his head cocked to the side, a grin splitting his face, the excitement in his voice—and it was so painfully obvious Lucas didn’t see me like I saw myself. There were moments when I wanted to be the guy he thought I was so much that I let myself believe it—a guy that, without asking a single question, grabbed his shoes and followed him to the car.

  Three and a half hours later, not even Lucas’ shirtless body in running shorts could compete with the beauty of the Pacific Ocean as we finished the four-and-a-half-mile perimeter loop at Point Lobos in Carmel. Sweaty and winded from our run, we made our way back to his car.

  “See? Now wasn’t that better than running around the neighborhood in the middle of the afternoon? I told you it’d be worth it.”

  Wiping my forehead with my shirt, I smiled my agreement. By any standard, running in ocean breezes on the beach trumped a suburban loop. “You realize we drove over two hours to run less than five miles, right?”

  He laughed nervously, opened his mouth to speak then closed it. Lucas took his time getting situated in the car. He started the engine but kept the car in Park, even after our seat belts were buckled. His gaze swung to his navigation screen like he expected it to tell him our destination. I wished I could see his eyes because I didn’t know how to interpret his sudden shyness.

  “Actually, I sort of had something in mind.”

  “What?”

  “I thought it’d be nice to watch the sunset. I mean…with you. I wanted to go to the beach.”

  “That’s—”

  “Sorry. It was dumb. Let’s just get dinner and go home.”

  “Don’t apologize, baby. I was going to say that’s amazing. I would love to do that.”

  “Really?” He met my eyes. “You don’t think—”

  I knew what he was going to say. Lucas had a black belt in dirty talk and shameless flirting, but with romance, he hesitated. There was nothing about sunsets on the beach that said ‘casual relationship,’ but the suggestion had sent my pulse racing. “I think it’s perfect. Let’s go.”

  We drove south toward another trailhead, parked along the road and hiked a short distance toward the beach. Lucas brought the blanket he’d stashed in his trunk and spread it out on the sand. I kicked off my socks and shoes and flopped down. The sun had already started its descent, but there was plenty of time left to enjoy. “Come here, Lucas.”

  “I didn’t plan this out well. I’m all sweaty.” He twitched, glancing nervously at the four ladies setting up a bonfire closer to the shore about fifty yards down the beach.

  “Did you plan it at all? We could have gone for a swim if we’d brought towels and a change of clothes,” I noted. I chuckled at the face Lucas made. “It’s fine. I like you sweaty. Now come here.” I yanked his hand until he was on the ground. He smiled at me and his resistance melted away. I opened my legs for him to settle between, and he eased back into my arms.

  Lucas watched the water, periodically glancing up at a flock of birds swirling over the cliffs to the north and to the women who had started dancing at the water’s edge. We didn’t talk, but when he twisted to gaze directly into my eyes and smiled, I could see his vulnerability.

  I braced my arms behind me, leaned back and Lucas’ back settled against my chest. His blond hair, still damp, clung to my skin while the sunset cast a dazzling array of colors, bathing the sky in pink and orange as it dipped into the water. I thought about what an unlikely set of circumstances had led us to that moment, how nervous he’d made me at first. Now here we were, sharing a moment that felt like it’d been written for us all along.

  The last sliver of sun dipped behind the Pacific Ocean. “Kyle,” Lucas whispered.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “This was all you, baby. I just wanted to go for a run.”

  * * * *

  There was a notable shift in our dynamic after that day at the beach. We didn’t discuss it but things were more settled, and our time together took a turn from dating to being in a relationship. After working all day and spending hours with our respective groups finishing classwork, we’d still found time to be together.

  After the end of a long week, I was looking forward to staying home for a night with Lucas and offered to grill some burgers for dinner, but Lucas had other plans.

  I was in the garage working on my wine cabinet. Lucas appeared in my driveway with four grocery bags and a smile so big they could have seen it from the space station.

  “That doesn’t look like burgers.”
/>   “I’d really like to make you dinner,” he said shyly. “I’ve been practicing. Here. Take this. There are two more bottles of wine in the car.”

  I kissed his cheek and accepted the offered grocery bags. His jog back to his car to grab the wine removed all my concerns. He was so adorably exuberant about cooking. He followed me into the house and immediately started unpacking the bags.

  Fresh herbs, chicken stock, butter, bacon, chicken, garlic, mushrooms, peas, onions, noodles…and still more wine. “Lucas, this seems”—complicated and expensive—“like a lot of work.”

  “I got it.” Lucas searched around, sizing up the best countertop for prep. “I just need you to point me in the direction of your cutting board, knives and cookware then feel free to go back to your project.”

  I moved around the kitchen to retrieve the supplies he’d asked for while he washed the produce. I finagled a saucepan and some larger pots from the drawer and offered him a choice. He grabbed the pan and the Dutch oven, placed them on the stovetop and his confidence faltered.

  “It’s electric,” I clarified. “You just turn the nob. There’s no igniter.”

  Lucas blushed. “I got this, Kyle. You can go finish your cabinet.”

  I nodded, opened the refrigerator to reach for a beer and paused. It struck me that in all the meals we’d eaten together, we had never cooked anything. “I really need to clean this out.” I gestured to the numerous takeout containers and pizza we’d gotten over the last week.

  Lucas flashed a grin over his shoulder and went to work peeling the garlic. “Man cannot live by pizza and Chinese food alone. I’ve gained like ten pounds this month.”

  In the months I’d lived with Matt, never once had he seemed as at home in my kitchen as Lucas did. He hummed to himself while he chopped and sliced ingredients. Matt and I had taken turns preparing meals, but it was a chore that we did alone. The more I thought of it, all domestic tasks had been divided between us—grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, even running errands. Every dollar spent was tracked, every job negotiated and assigned. Lucas was so different. Memories of strolling through the garden section of the home store brought a smile to my face.

  I followed my gut and shut the fridge. “Can I open this?” I gestured to the wine bottle.

  Lucas glanced up and smiled. “Yeah. I bought one to cook with, but the others are to drink. I figured if you have the cabinet, might as well stock it.”

  “What do I owe you for the groceries?”

  Lucas frowned, so I let it go and uncorked the wine. I rinsed the thin layer of dust off two wine glasses before pouring one for myself and one for Lucas. I washed my hands and handed him his glass. “What are we making and how can I help?”

  Lucas handed me the recipe card. Coq au Vin appeared in bold letters above an intimidating list of steps. “What the hell is ‘blanched’ bacon?” I laughed, but Lucas was undeterred.

  “You can slice the mushrooms and dice an onion.” Lucas handed me the knife and slid the cutting board my direction. He grabbed the saucepan from the stovetop and filled it with water. “Julia Child says you have to blanch the bacon to remove the saltiness. It just means you boil it first, then put it in cold water.”

  I held the mushroom and sliced carefully. “I know how to fry bacon. Also, the recipe says to serve with buttered noodles. That doesn’t sound any healthier than eating out.”

  Lucas hip-checked me out of his way as he grabbed his wine glass. “We can work it off later.”

  After finishing the prep work, I attempted to help, but once several recipe steps converged and timers started going off, Lucas got frazzled. After a while, I gave up and followed him from counter to counter, cleaning up behind him and randomly groping him to try to keep him from getting too anxious. By the time the meal was ready, I was far more horny than hungry.

  I sliced into the chicken to ensure it was done and could barely contain my hysterics. “Is Coq au Vin French for purple chicken?” We were nearly two bottles into a good Pinot Noir, so it’s possible that wasn’t nearly as funny as I thought.

  The sheer disappointment on Lucas’ face tempered my reaction. I picked a piece of the chicken off the bone with my fingers. “It still tastes good, babe,” I said, eliciting only a weak smile from Lucas.

  We moved to the table, but Lucas was distracted, busily tapping on his phone, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. “I should have used a burgundy. My recipe didn’t say that, but Alton Brown is saying if you use a good burgundy, it won’t stain.”

  “The chicken is delicious,” I reassured him, taking another healthy bite.

  “It should be a rooster,” Lucas said, shrugging.

  “What?”

  “Coq. It’s French for rooster.”

  “Like cock?” My laughter returned, escaping with an inadvertent snort that sent me into further hysterics. “You made me cock?”

  Lucas shook his head as he laughed, more at me than my joke. “How drunk are you?”

  I shrugged and took another sip of my wine but did a quick inventory. I was lightheaded and my lips were slightly numb. Neither were good signs, but there was one dead giveaway that I’d passed tipsy. “Have I been laughing inappropriately?”

  “A little.” Lucas chuckled.

  “Then very. Kayla informed me my wine drunk is highly entertaining. Am I entertaining you?”

  “Yes, immensely.”

  “I love this purple cock, baby.” I took a bite and moaned around it.

  Lucas nearly spit out his wine. “Holy shit. I’m buying you wine every day.”

  “Then I will swallow your purple cock every day, too.”

  “Kyle, take it easy. I have plans for you later.”

  I inspected my lap and rubbed myself. I had a semi, and no doubt Lucas could inspire me with even a modicum of attention, but there was something else being wine drunk brought out in me. “Not tonight,” I said, taking another swallow of wine.

  Lucas scraped the noodles off his plate and chewed his last bite with care. He swallowed, and I fought to keep my eyes focused on him to gauge his reaction. Or non-reaction, it would seem. “Lucas?”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t expect sex every night, babe.”

  A loud guffaw exited my mouth that must have amused Lucas because he sat back and grinned. “Oh, we are definitely having sex tonight. It just doesn’t matter if I get hard enough to fuck you.”

  Lucas’ eyebrow disappeared into his hair. “You serious? You’ve had a lot to drink.”

  “Haven’t ever tried a cock as big as yours. It’s good to be a little relaxed.”

  Lucas frowned. “I don’t want you to have to get drunk to be with me.”

  I shook my head, cackling like a hyena at Lucas’ assertion but powerless to control the volume or cadence of my laughter. I really shouldn’t drink wine. “Don’t have to be drunk. Just need to get fucked.” I stood, stumbling a bit, and grabbed his hand. “Now, Lucas. C’mon.”

  I led Lucas to my bedroom. I could see the hesitation, so I did my best to fight through my haze and find enough sobriety to show him that how much I wanted him had very little to do with the alcohol I’d consumed. The truth was that since that day in the library, I thought about it all the time. Dreamed about it. I loved to bottom, always had, and since Matt was the last guy who’d fucked me, it had been a long freaking time since I’d done so. The alcohol had merely given me the courage to ask for it. “I need you. Please.”

  The words I had held back from Lucas flowed too freely. “I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me.” I threw myself at him, my naked desire consuming his resistance and burning it to ashes.

  I swayed as my eyes closed, my brain swimming in a ‘we-are-so-gonna-get-fucked’ pool of anticipation when Lucas sank his teeth into the flesh of my shoulder. I moaned.

  “Come on now, drunky.” Lucas guided me to the bed and yanked off my pants. My erection sprang free.

  “See? Not too drunk,” I slurred. “I made a purple
cock for you too, baby.”

  Lucas half-smirked, “Kyle, shut up.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Make me. Like I do you. I want it like that.”

  Lucas shifted up on the bed and straddled me. “You want me to hold you down, Kyle?” He pinned my wrists to the mattress, and I struggled just because it was hot.

  I nodded. “Yeah.” He squeezed tighter, and I moaned. “Want that. Touch me, babe.”

  Lucas laughed. “Now that I know wine is your truth serum, we’re going to play a little game of what does Kyle really think.”

  “No,” I moaned. “Suck my cock.”

  Lucas thrust his pelvis against me, laughing at the happy noises I couldn’t contain. “Which is it, Kyle? Am I pinning you down and fucking you, stroking you or sucking your cock?”

  “Yes, please.” I closed my eyes while Lucas’ manipulated his hold and slid his cock up and down my shaft.

  “Do you like being my daddy in bed?”

  My eyes flew open. “What?”

  “Told you. This is truth time. I ask you a question, you answer it then I get you off.”

  I moaned as Lucas let go and reached for the bedside table. He freed a plug I hadn’t realized he even knew was there. “Answer me.”

  “Yes, I like it.”

  “Good.” Smiling, Lucas opened the lube and rubbed it over the silicone. He motioned for me to lift my ass, slid a pillow under my hips and nudged my legs farther apart.

  He lowered his head to my crotch and blew air along my twitching cock. He peeked out his tongue and flicked it lightly under my cockhead then stopped. “But you sometimes want me to take control?”

  “Yes.” I rolled my eyes. What had I just been saying? “Want you to stop teasing and fuck me now.”

  Lucas laughed and took his time kissing along my shaft.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged when it became clear he was stopping.

  “Not what I asked, baby. Do you want me to tie you up? Blindfold you? Gag you? Would you like it if I made it hurt a little? Not a lot, just enough so that you’d be totally focused on my cock sliding into your tight hole and filling you up. Would you like that, baby? Would you let me make you helpless and fuck you?”