by Barley A. R.
Nico squeezed his eyes shut as air burned its way down into his lungs. He took one breath after another while he waited for the inevitable. Why would Dale pick him when he had another offer? A better offer from someone who probably knew all about what another man did in the dark.
What Dale liked in the dark.
Because at the moment, other men didn’t matter.
There was only one guy Nico wanted.
And why couldn’t Dale pick him? He was smart and funny. He might not be a square-jawed giant, but his cousin Gina always said he was handsome and—fuck it—he was employed.
They might not have met under the best of circumstances—Dale had dragged him out of the ocean like a drowned cat—but things had changed. They’d spent time together.
Maybe it wasn’t true love, but it could be.
There was a shift in the mood. A soft breeze glanced through the evening humidity as someone came to stand by his side. The familiar scent of shampoo and sunlight coalesced in the air along with butter, beer, and burned wood off the bonfire.
It was Dale.
Not holding him tight.
Barely even touching.
But still….
It was all the encouragement Nico needed. His eyes popped open. “Sorry, officer.” His voice was louder than he’d intended, rougher. He almost didn’t recognize the rough growl at the end of each word, but he wasn’t about to stop. “He’s got all the help he needs.”
“Really?” Dilly looked at him for the first time all night. “And you are?”
“Nico Travelli. Nice to meet you.”
“The swimmer, right?” His gaze flicked across to Dale and back again. “I heard you were a tourist. Strictly temporary.” His head cocked to the side. Dark eyes gleamed in the reflection from the bonfire. “You’re planning on sticking around?”
“As long as Dale will have me.”
“Not long, then.” Dilly stood up a little taller, adjusting his uniform. He gave Dale a nod. “See you at the town safety meeting next week? Maybe we can get a drink afterward?”
“Sorry.” Dale shook his head. It was hard to make out his face among the shadows, but the edges of his lips were visible. Quirked up into a bright little smile. Callused fingers brushed against Nico’s wrist, sending tremors of heat and need thrumming down his spine.
Nico shifted so their hands were palm-to-palm. Resting against each other. It wasn’t enough. He threaded his fingers through Dale’s, gripping him hard, and then they were holding hands like the gay couples in Grant Park… the ones Nico liked to watch when no one else was looking.
Was that how Erica had known?
Had she caught him watching?
And what about his grandfather always asking the same question? “The things your mother said…. You can tell me the truth, boy. Are you gay?”
If he asked again, Nico wouldn’t say no.
The pressure on his hand tightened as Dale squeezed him back. “I’ve got plans. Like Nico said, he’s sticking around.”
“That so.” Dilly stuck his hands in his pockets. His oversized boots didn’t make a sound as he took another step forward, looming ominously in the darkness.
Nico didn’t back down.
He refused to back down.
Maybe he hadn’t claimed Dale when he had the chance, but he could do it now. “Is there anything else you need, officer?”
“Not particularly.” He turned and left, striding off around the side of the house like a damn Viking.
Asshole.
Neither of them spoke, but Dale didn’t let go of his hand either. A car door slammed in the distance. There was a pause and then the rumbling of an engine. Gravel rattled against tires. The car pulled away.
“You meant what you said?” Dale asked. “You’re sticking around.”
“I got a job.”
“For more than the job.”
Tension eased out of Nico’s shoulders. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Dilly? What’s your deal with him?” The growl was more distinct now. “And Austin. Every guy in this town wants you—at least the gay ones.”
“I never slept with Austin. He just likes to flirt.”
That wasn’t exactly what Nico wanted to know. “What about Dilly?”
“We’re old news.”
“From when the world was young?”
“From when all of this was still country.”
“Long enough.” Nico turned, swallowing back all of his worries and anxiety, until he faced Dale head-on. “I’m going to kiss you.” There weren’t going to be any mistakes or miscommunications. Not this time. “This time you’re going to kiss me back.”
“You’re awfully bossy,” Dale said. “I like it.”
“Good. Then you’ll like this.” Nico took a deep breath, pushed his way up onto his tiptoes, and leaned in for a kiss. There was a pause right before their lips met. A moment of thrumming excitement where anything could happen. The world was full of endless possibilities.
And then it happened….
And it was better than anything he could have ever imagined. Dale tasted like sweet crabs and bright beginnings. Nico raised his free hand up to cup the back of Dale’s head, curling his fingers through soft blond hair and dragging him in even closer until they were standing chest-to-chest, thigh-to-thigh, and groin-to-groin.
One kiss blended into another as Dale started kissing him back. He must not have shaved that morning. The rough spots where his beard was growing in rubbed against Nico’s face like sandpaper on fine-grained wood, adding a little pain to his pleasure.
It wasn’t anything he’d liked before, but that didn’t stop his body from giving an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
His skin felt like it was on fire. His erection was throbbing. He wanted to feel Dale’s hands, big and capable, running across his spine. Touching him everywhere.
It would be even better if he could be the one doing the touching.
“Oh, God,” Dale groaned desperately into his mouth.
“That’s right,” Nico ordered. “Give it to me.” It was more demanding—more aggressive—than he’d ever been with the girl he’d been about to marry or anyone else he’d ever dated. Of course, he’d never wanted any of them the way he wanted Dale.
Spread out and panting on the nearest flat surface.
Begging for Nico’s touch.
His feet shuffled forward, and Dale took a corresponding step back. Nice. His legs extended. He took one step after another, herding him back toward the house. Dale stumbled going up the deck stairs backward, but Nico wasn’t about to let them fall.
His fingers snagged on the edge of Dale’s soft cotton T-shirt, and he tugged it off over the larger man’s head. It was too dark out to glimpse more than the few inches of tanned flesh directly in front of him, but he could feel the skin. Miles of it. Acres.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
Was Dale still repeating the words, or were they coming from Nico? Were they even being said out loud?
It took him a moment to work the catch on the sliding door, but then they were inside and falling back onto the comfortable old couch. Dale was moving his hands now. Slipping his fingers under the band of Nico’s shorts and palming his ass.
Fear and anxiety sprouted in his chest and were quickly swept away by a tidal wave of lust. He might not be comfortable with the idea of giving Dale his ass, but at the moment he didn’t care. He’d do anything to make him happy.
“Tell me what you want.” Nico gasped and groaned. He could feel a hard length rubbing against him. All that friction was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, but he wanted more. He wanted skin. He dropped his hands down to tug at Dale’s waistband.
The heavy fabric of his jeans was rough to touch. The angle was unfamiliar. It took him a moment to pop open the waistband, but then—
“You go commando?”
“Sometimes.” Dale chuckled.
“I’ve never done this before.�
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“I know.”
“I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Not possible.” Dale’s lips brushed against the side of his neck as he spoke, every word sending a shudder of need down his spine. “As long as it’s you and me… there’s nothing you could do to screw things up.”
There was a slight pause.
Nothing moved in the darkened house. The only sounds came from their breath mingling in the air.
And then Nico’s zipper was screaming its way down. “We can start out slowly,” Dale said. “We don’t have to do too much tonight.” He curled his fingers around the head of Nico’s cock. He gave two quick strokes, and Nico groaned in response. “We can have some fun.”
“What about tomorrow? The next day….” Nico thrust into Dale’s grip. Once. Twice. Slowly. “You’re going to want to fuck me?”
“I was hoping it would be the other way around.”
Oh, shit. Nico’s muscles tensed. His eyes rolled back in his head. “You’d be interested in something like that? I thought the bigger guy always—”
“You thought the bigger guy always topped?” Dale chuckled. “Sorry, Nico. I might be a big dude, but I like to have my prostate tickled as much as the next guy.”
“Right, it’s just, in porn—”
“You’ve been watching gay porn? When?”
“On my phone.” Nico flushed. “At night. In my room.”
“That’s definitely something we need to explore more of.” Dale’s grip tightened and picked up speed. “Later. For now, we’re going to keep things simple.”
Nico thrust desperately as sparks danced in the darkness. Blood roared past his ears, and he came in a series of gasps and moans.
No time to relax now. He only allowed himself a moment’s afterglow before shifting his own hand to better mimic Dale’s grip. He might not have been with a man before, but he was a quick learner, and he wasn’t about to let Dale do all the work.
The head of Dale’s cock was hot in his hand, buttery smooth and leaking precome. He wanted to taste it, to feel it in his mouth when Dale finally gave way, but there wasn’t enough time to fumble into a better position—not when both of them were still wearing clothes.
Not with Dale’s breath coming faster and faster.
Their mouths came together one last time, and Dale bucked against him. A muffled groan thrummed in the darkness as sticky fluid coated both of their hands.
“Next time we take off our clothes,” Nico growled.
“And make it to bed,” Dale countered. There was a moment’s pause, and then soft lips brushed against his. “I really want to do this in bed.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Chapter Ten.
DALE WASN’T a freaking virgin. He’d had sex before—lots of it—but one hand job from Nico and he’d been shaken.
Watching his lover find his way… transitioning from those first tentative kisses to bold, aggressive, moves….
Fuck. It had been unbelievable.
Fumbling their way out of the living room, they’d made a pit stop in the bathroom to clean up and then tumbled into the master bedroom. Dale couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten hard twice in one night, but his dick had plumped as soon as Nico’s clothes hit the floor.
Then he’d smiled and—fuck—it was like Dale had an iron bar between his legs.
“Want me to take care of that for you?” Sometime between Dilly’s idiotic flirting and their first orgasms of the night, Nico had found his confidence, and it was breathtaking.
He’d barely had the presence of mind to nod his assent, and then Nico had gone to his knees.
Nico had been concentrating hard enough to cause little wrinkles in the skin between his eyebrows, but he hadn’t hesitated before swallowing Dale down to his root. His mouth was soft and hard in all the right places. The blow job was sloppy, wet, and awkward, but what he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm—licking, sucking, and groaning until Dale could feel the thrum of his throat deep in his balls.
It was freaking magical.
Over the next week and a half, it had gotten even better. Hand jobs, blow jobs, sixty-nine. They’d done everything short of full-on penetration, and it was only a matter of time until they got to that.
It wasn’t just the sex either. Dale wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with his lovers, but there was something about curling up next to Nico at night—and kissing him awake every morning—that made whatever doubts he’d been feeling about their relationship melt away.
With Nico working the lunch shift at the Lazy Crab, their hours even lined up. It was nice having someone to come home to.
Tonight he’d taken the long way home to stop by an old bedspring barbeque stand farther inland. The chicken was sweet and juicy. He’d picked up two vats of sides and a tray of corn bread to go with it. The scent was enough to make his mouth water and his stomach roar. He hoped Nico was equally excited.
Nico was sprawled across the couch when he walked in. “Your aunt Shirley stopped by the restaurant this afternoon. She wanted to talk–” He stopped short when he spotted the bags in Dale’s hands. “Dinner?”
“Hope you like chicken.”
“Damn straight.” Nico bounced upright. “Is this all for us? Or are you throwing another party?”
Dale glanced down at the pile of food. Okay, so they’d have leftovers for days. He wasn’t concerned. He definitely liked chicken, and the barbecue stand donated all their profits to the Delaware National Guard.
He started spreading out the food, and—
Four hundred dollars in crisp twenties hit the table between the mashed sweet potatoes and the baked beans.
“If you’re paying me to strip, I’m going to need a little music.”
Nico rolled his eyes. “It’s my share of the rent. At least part of it.”
Rent? Dale fumbled with the corn bread. Why the hell was Nico talking about rent? “I don’t need your money.”
“Sure you do.”
“I really don’t.”
Gray eyes glared in his direction. Nico’s jaw clenched tight. “I said I’m sticking around. That means I pay my fair share.”
There was a pause, like he was waiting for a response. Dale didn’t say anything. Nico’s head dipped. His bare toes curled against the hardwood floor, but he didn’t pick the cash back up.
“What is the rent on this place anyway?” Nico looked around like he was measuring the place for drapes, and he didn’t think they’d fit. “With me pitching in, we could look for someplace new—someplace better.”
The bottom dropped out of the room. Dale’s head was spinning. His gut was churning. “I’m not moving.”
“I’m not suggesting we go to Chicago, but we could get some nicer neighbors. Ones who don’t call the cops because of a bonfire—”
“I’m not fucking moving.”
His lungs were straining for air. The walls were closing in around him. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hit something or run away, but either way, he needed to make Nico understand.
“This is my home.” It was where he’d been born, where he’d lost his first tooth, busted his first lip, and kissed his first boy.
“I don’t rent. I own.” They’d have to carry him out of the place—feet first in a coffin. “My family’s always owned it, since—”
The copper taste of blood flooded his mouth as his teeth slammed together before the rest could spill out, raw and painful.
“Since when?” Nico asked. His eyes had softened somewhat, their deep color a perfect match for his gray-green shirt. His hand was edging toward the bills on the table. “Since all of this was country?”
“Yeah.” Dale grabbed for the nearest chair, throwing himself into the seat before his knees gave out entirely. “Something like that.”
“You going to tell me what it was like?”
“It was different. Louder.”
“Chicago’s loud. Car horns blowing an
d train tracks rattling. All the people. They don’t have that in the country.”
“Chicken farms are always loud. They smell bad too.” He shrugged. “It was an honest living.”
“Biology major, business minor.” Nico’s head cocked to the side. “That’s what you wanted to do? The job that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Yeah.” It was too late to run away. Too late to do much of anything. Nico knew enough. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d start asking questions, and if Dale didn’t answer them, then someone else would.
“There’s not much money in chicken farming. Not usually. The big companies send you the baby chicks when they’re still fluffy. You raise them up, and then they buy them back. It covers feed and utilities mostly, but there’s not much left over for labor. If you do something the big guy doesn’t like, there’s even less. Vindictive sons of bitches send you third-rate chicks, then blame you when they don’t make weight.”
He nudged the tray of food away with one elbow and settled his arms against the table. “Of course, after the third time that happened, my father had the bright idea to switch over to organic, heritage breeds. It took every penny we had, but at least that way we owned the whole thing from the chicken to the egg.”
Nico’s eyes were bright. His mouth opened like he wanted to ask a question, but Dale waved him away.
“We were starting to make real money, selling to the high-end restaurants in DC and Philadelphia. Dad was talking about expanding right before the car crash. My parents died on impact. At least that’s what the coroner said.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” Dale tried to form a smile and failed. “Really. Don’t.” He’d heard I’m sorry enough to last a lifetime. He couldn’t take any more. Besides, if Nico started offering his condolences, then he’d never be able to get the rest of it out, and he didn’t want to keep it in anymore.
For the first time in a long time, he wanted to tell someone about what had happened, to see if they understood.
Fuck, what if Nico didn’t understand?
It was too late to turn back now.
Dale tried to swallow and failed. His mouth was the freaking Sahara. “Can I get some water?”