Exploration

by Quinn Ward

  The past few years of my life played like a motion picture in my mind as I wandered aimlessly through the streets. Walking past the empty shell that used to be a bakery, I thought about the Agnelli family. In another time, they weren’t that different from our own family, everyone chipping in to keep the family business alive. The difference was Mr. Agnelli was a stubborn old fool who’d rather close the doors than allow one of his daughters to take his place at the helm. Heaviness filled my chest as I remembered Mrs. Agnelli’s warm smile and the way she’d pulled all the neighborhood kids to her chest, offering free hugs for all. I wrapped my arms around myself, imagining I was back in her embrace. Back when life made sense. With a sigh, I continued down the road.

  My trip down memory lane lasted until the streets were deserted and even the bars were dark and quiet. The sight of a bartender sweeping empty beer bottles into a garbage can reminded me of Calvin’s demand. “Go home and wait for me.” Fuck him. Just fuck him. Calvin wasn’t my parent, my keeper, or any other fucking thing. I didn’t need to do as he told me. But damn if part of me wasn’t curious what’d happen when he walked through the door of his quaint little house in the ‘burbs.

  The moment I realized it was Calvin who’d yanked me off the ground tonight, anger morphed into desire. The way he looked at me. The throaty growl and the way his voice dropped the more pissed off he became. I’d thought he was a damn good looking man since the first time he opened the door when I stopped by to look at the apartment, but I’d never considered the possibility of anything more. He was a dedicated father, still on speaking terms with his ex-wife, and therefore off-limits to someone like me. I’d quickly slapped a big ol’ “straight” label on his firm ass and hadn’t given him a second thought.

  But now, I couldn’t stop replaying the way his eyes bored into me or the shame I felt at him catching me on my knees for someone else. I wished it was him in front of me. That it was his rock-hard thighs I dug my fingers into to steady myself as I sucked him into my mouth. I wanted more of his deep baritone demands, this time telling me to suck harder, take him deeper, swallow around his girth.

  Fantasizing about my roommate was pointless. No way could I risk fucking up what’d been—so far—a decent living arrangement just so he could scratch my twisted itch. And even if he could do that for me, there was the issue of what happened when he decided he could boss me around whenever he wanted.

  Yeah, fuck that.

  Fatigue seeped into my bones, and my feet dragged with every step. I couldn’t keep wandering aimlessly to avoid going home. Either I needed to nut up and face Calvin long enough to set some ground rules, like no treating the adult roommate the same as he treated his teen son, before passing out for a few hours, or I could head to Mama’s. There was a chance my presence would go unnoticed, but if she caught me sneaking in in the middle of the night, she’d assume something was wrong. Which it wasn’t, at least not in any way I’d ever share with Mama.

  My phone buzzed with an incoming text message. At this hour, it was unlikely to be one of my brothers with an emergency, but I couldn’t ignore it on the off chance it was. Or I wouldn’t ignore it because I knew in my gut it was Calvin and the more I replayed his simple demand for me to go home and wait for him, the more intrigued I became.

  Did you think I was joking? I’m waiting…

  My aborted responses ranged from apologizing for keeping Calvin waiting to telling him to fuck off and that I’d drop my keys off at the apartment and move out during the week when he was gone. Not knowing where the night was headed, I opted out of acknowledging his message. Something compelled me to turn around and jog back to my car. Whether it was curiosity or insanity was yet to be determined.

  As I walked up the front steps of the house, I breathed a sigh of relief at the darkness. Even the light we almost always left on in the living room wasn’t shining. Maybe Calvin had gotten tired of waiting for me or realized he was playing with fire. I eased my key into the lock, turning the knob before carefully pushing the door open, cringing when I forgot about the squeaky floorboard. It wasn’t usually that noticeable, but the quiet of the house seemed to amplify the noise. When I realized I was sneaking into my own home the same way I would’ve had I gone to Mama’s, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Something amusing?”

  I fucking yelped as Calvin’s voice boomed through the darkness. I gripped the keys I’d just hung on the hook, ready to bolt. Something about Calvin’s tone scared the shit out of me, and it wasn’t just that he was apparently waiting up for me in the dark the way Papa used to. I put the keys back in their place and turned to the living room. I’d made it this far, now I needed to find out what sort of game Calvin was playing. Once I had all the facts I would figure out whether it was time to start apartment hunting again. That’d be a damn shame because there was something about the thick crown moulding and scuffed hardwood floors that called to me the first time I’d been here and I freaking liked this place. Calvin was going to have to try harder if he was hoping to push me out.

  Whatever happened, one thing was for certain: tonight was bound to turn into one of the most bizarre nights of my life.

  This was uncharted territory for me. I’d been the loser who lived in the dorms all four years of college because it was either that or move home with my parents, which would’ve been even more depressing and stifling. My roommates during those years ranged from uber-nerds who I doubted even knew what sex was like in more than a theoretical sense to a hyper-masculine jock who flaunted his parade of girlfriends as if anyone who didn’t know he was banging everything with tits and a heartbeat would assume he was queer because he roomed with a dude. That was a fun year.

  I’d had a moment of “holy fuck, men shouldn’t be allowed to look that hot” when we’d first met, but I’d told myself it wouldn’t be an issue because Calvin was straight. Or—apparently—because I assumed he was straight. The way he chubbed up when he caught me sucking that dude’s cock tonight said otherwise. That still would’ve been fine if he didn’t know how to push my buttons.

  “I don’t have all night, Frankie,” Cal stated without any hint of emotion in his voice. He didn’t sound pissed off or turned on or anything else. I really could’ve used a few cues to understand how he saw tonight playing out.

  I couldn’t stand in front of the door forever; I needed to make my choice. Go hear what Calvin had to say or turn and walk out, hoping he’d forget what he saw tonight by the next time we ran into one another. With a ragged breath, I squared my shoulders and took the first daunting step into the living room.

  After I ran into the arm of one of the chairs, the room was flooded with light. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness, and stared at the man who’d summoned me. He was one of those guys who could pull off just about anything from sweats and a T-shirt to a suit and tie, but tonight, he was sitting on the couch wearing nothing but a pair of dark wash jeans. Shirtless. How in the hell did I not realize Calvin was hiding all that ink? Fucking edible. While my brain screamed that it was a horrible idea to pursue anything with the man whose name was on the deed, my dick begged me to crawl onto Calvin’s lap and lick every line spanning his chest.

  “Please, take a seat.” Calvin motioned to the chair that’d just attacked my leg. I felt like an idiot, because if he was putting me across the room from him, he wasn’t looking for anything more than answers. No matter how much I’d told myself I didn’t want anything more than our current arrangement, I couldn’t ignore the tightness in my chest as I realized what a fool I’d been. Now that he didn’t want me, I wanted him to need me the same way I’d decided I needed him. I squirmed in my seat, trying to get comfortable as Calvin watched my every move. Only once I appeared settled did he speak again.

  “Ever since you left tonight, I’ve been trying to figure out what your deal is.” Calvin leaned back on the couch, resting one foot against the opposite knee. He stared at me and scrubbed at his beard. His scruti
ny had me resisting the urge to fidget or sit straighter. “I know you have a good job. I happen to know what most of your living expenses are, and they’re not much for a single guy. So it makes no sense why I’d find you in the back room on your knees like a cheap hooker.”

  I bit down on my lips to keep from telling him what I did was none of his fucking business. It wouldn’t be an inaccurate statement, but he seemed genuinely curious. Too bad I wasn’t about to explain it to him. So, I did what any mature adult would do and I shrugged before crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

  “You’re not denying that you were turning tricks?” Calvin pressed when I remained silent. Pleading the fifth was my only option because I couldn’t lie to save my life. Calvin leaned forward in his seat and stared at me until I couldn’t take another second of eye contact and I had to look away. “Help me understand why, Frankie. If you’re having trouble making ends meet we can work something out.”

  “Yeah, I can just bet how you’d suggest we do that,” I sniped.

  “I don’t like what you’re implying. I have no intention of trading sexual favors for room and board.”

  “Why not? According to you I’m nothing but a cheap hooker. Might as well use my body for something while I still can.” My stomach tightened at the implication that I thought I wasn’t worth anything other than selling my body. Fuck. I never felt guilty for how I chose to spend my time or what turned me on, but knowing Calvin viewed me that way cut deep. Flashes of memories streamed through my mind of all the times I’d willingly put myself in positions like he’d found me tonight. The men who were all too willing to whip out their wallets right along with their dicks. The casual disregard and quick exits while the taste of their cum still lingered in my mouth. An act I’d always viewed as a way for me to hand over the reins on my own terms began to disgust me.

  “Dammit Frankie, that’s not what I meant,” Calvin growled. He cracked his knuckles one by one, staring vacantly across the room. “I’m pretty sure I made it pretty clear I couldn’t picture you selling your body and I want to understand why you were.”

  “Different strokes for different folks.” I forced myself to lean back in the chair, hoping to hell I appeared more calm and collected than I felt.

  Calvin watched me for a few long moments, pinching his lower lip. His scrutiny was intense. I held my breath as I waited to see if my explanation was enough to appease him. It wasn’t. He planted both of his feet firmly on the floor and leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his way too kissable lips. What tipped my world on its axis was when he smiled at me, broadly enough that fine lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. With nothing else to focus on other than Calvin, I allowed myself to catalogue his features. That was a mistake because he ticked off too many of the boxes for what I’d want in a partner if I was looking for one. Which I wasn’t, because that’d mean telling Mama the truth and I wasn’t ready for that.

  “I can accept that answer,” Calvin finally responded. I could practically hear the but in his statement and motioned for him to respond. The jerk laughed. “So impatient. Now, I’m going to tell you what I think and you tell me if I’m off base.”

  Calvin’s leg started bouncing rapidly and he wiped his palms down his thighs. For the first time since he’d ordered me to sit down, he was carefully avoiding making eye contact. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was nervous. I supposed it was possible, but he’d always seemed so confident and self-assured that I couldn’t imagine him being nervous about anything.

  “If I had to guess, you have a tendency to choose men bigger than yourself for these…exchanges.” The fact he was choosing his words carefully would’ve put my mind at ease if not for the fact he was right on his first assumption, and I was scared of what would come out of his mouth next. What would I do if he understood what tricks were about for me? What would he do with that knowledge? When I didn’t dispute him, he continued. “You want men who can control you, control the encounter. But you’re smarter than to fully trust them, which is why you hustle at Club 83. Is there someone working with you?”

  “No,” I lied. No way in hell was I giving up Max’s name. We had a sweet deal where I tossed him a percentage of anything I made. It was worth it to me because I wasn’t doing it for the money. Cash was my insurance that there would be no mixed messages. I was offering one orgasm, without reciprocation or the possibility of moving the party outside of the bar.

  Calvin pursed his lips and narrowed his gaze on me as he shook his head. He knew I was full of shit, but wasn’t calling me on it. “I like you, Frankie. You’re smart, funny, and not bad to look at.”

  “Gee, if you’re not careful you’re going to inflate my ego to the point it’ll push you right out of the room,” I quipped. Calvin merely shook his head again, and I could practically hear him silently chastising himself for even bothering with me. “Sorry, please continue.”

  “And it seems you’re a bit of a brat, to boot.” I shrugged, because there was no denying the obvious. I owned that shit and wasn’t going to change to please him. “You have no clue how tempting it is for me to come over there, flip you over and spank the attitude right out of you.”

  “Careful,” I warned him, finally feeling like I had the upper hand. “That’s the second time tonight you’ve issued that threat. Do it a third time and I might think you’re being serious.”

  “I don’t joke about things like that,” he responded flatly. “I’m old enough to know what I want and observant enough to see someone like yourself who wants to submit but won’t allow himself to.”

  “I’m no one’s submissive,” I insisted. Being someone’s slave, licking their boots, letting them strap me to a cross while they whipped me held zero appeal to me. I was so averse to justifying where I was going or what I was doing to anyone that I’d completely shied away from dating in general.

  “You might be surprised,” he argued. I glared at him, because he was an idiot if he leapt from me trading blowjobs for money to me wanting to be bound and kneeling at someone’s feet. “Have you ever looked into various kinks or are you basing your assumption on bullshit you’ve seen on porn sites?”

  Shit, he sort of had a point. Most of my knowledge had come from porn, but I’d also had a quasi-friend in college who was so desperate to be loved he ignored the warning signs; the guy he was seeing was a fucking sadist.

  “I’ll take your silence as a no. I want you to sit down and actually think about what it is that turns you on. What motivates you to do what you do. BDSM and kink are broad terms and mean different things to different people,” he explained, with as much passion as a professor giving a lecture to a room of disinterested students. “It’s not all leather, whips, and ball gags. Some people aren’t into any of that.”

  “Are you?” I asked, because it was obvious he wasn’t the vanilla suburbanite parent I’d assumed him to be. Everything I’d thought I’d known about my roommate was crumbling in ways that were hazardous to my libido.

  “Nope,” he answered quickly. “I know people who are into the pain, but that’s not something I need or even want most of the time.”

  “Then what are you into?” Now that we’d opened this can of worms I was curious to know everything Calvin was willing to tell me.

  “We’ll talk about that, but first, I want you to focus on what intrigues you. Take some time this week to clear your mind and do your research. If you still want to know about my kinks once you’ve done that, let me know and I’ll answer any question you ask. But now, it’s time to sleep.”

  Calvin left the room without a backward glance, leaving my mind spinning. I felt rooted to the chair, unable to move as I tried to figure out what had just happened.

  “Bed, Frankie. You need to sleep.” The stern tone of Calvin’s voice made my dick twitch. As much as I swore I wasn’t into what he was potentially offering, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to defy him just to see what he’d do next.

  3

&n
bsp; Calvin

  By Tuesday, I was certain I’d misjudged Frankie and his unacknowledged desires. Every morning, he’d been up and out of the house before my alarm went off. I’d hear him come home late at night after I’d gone to bed. He’d changed up his routine, which likely meant he was trying to avoid me. If I walked out of my bedroom to find his keys laying on the kitchen counter, I wouldn’t have blamed him for leaving. It was wrong of me to boss him around the way I had and imply that I knew his needs better than he did.

  “You okay, old man?” Ryan asked almost immediately after getting into the car. The kid was too damn observant and knew how to read me.

  “Yeah, buddy. Just stressed about some work stuff.” It was close enough to the truth that my son didn’t pry further. He was wise beyond his years and sometimes I felt like he was the parent and we were the children. “What about you? You worried about your evaluations?”

  This wasn’t the time for me to dwell on what may or may not happen with my too-damn-young-for-me roommate. I only had a few days per week with Ryan and hockey time was sacred. When Marisa and I had separated, we’d both promised him he’d remain our number one priority, and it was time for me to remember that.

  I pulled into the parking lot at the rink and the number of cars already filling the parking lot made me nervous for my son. He busted his ass to be the best player he could be, but this year his sights were set on making the Sharks Major AA squad. I had faith in his talent, but I also knew a bunch of the other players and the competition was fierce.