by Riley Hart
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Van watched Shane for a minute. He didn’t turn away, didn’t even flinch as he waited for Van to answer his question. He knew Shane was asking because he was drunk, but that was okay.
Van leaned to the side and set his bottle down on the deck. His eyes caught Shane’s again as he plucked his cell from Shane’s hand and set that to the side, too.
He stood, took a couple steps until he was in front of Shane, Shane’s eyes following him the whole time. “He would have gone home with you one night. He’d hoped you’d ask, even though he didn’t think it would be for sex.”
Shane nodded, in what Van assumed was his way of telling him to keep going, which he appreciated because he almost asked Shane if he was sure. Their past was so fucked, he didn’t want to make the wrong decision. “He felt oddly comfortable with you, so it had been a relief to him to say yes. Plus, he thought you were hot and hoped you thought the same thing about him.”
A small smile curled at Shane’s lips. “I did.”
“Well that’s a relief.” Van winked. “When he realized you wanted him too, he asked you to sit up so he could take your shirt off.”
Shane moved slowly, sitting up, as Van kneeled on the deck beside him.
“You skipped a part,” Shane told him.
“Yeah, I guess I did. He would have gone down on his knees and then told you to lift your arms.”
Shane did it.
“He slid his hands under your shirt, groaned when he felt your hot skin as he lifted it over your head and tossed it to the deck.” Van did it, let his fingers skate along Shane’s skin, pulling the shirt with him. He didn’t let himself think about anything—not the past, not the future, not the fucking town. Just that moment. When Shane’s tee hit the deck, he said, “Your lover liked your chest.”
A spark lit in Shane’s golden-brown eyes. “That’s a relief.”
Before he could lower his arms, Van leaned in, nuzzled Shane’s armpit, which smelled of clean skin and man. He licked it, got Shane’s salty skin on his tongue.
“Oh fuck,” Shane gritted out.
“Want me to do it again?” Van asked.
“You know I do.”
So he did. He tongued Shane’s body, rubbing his hand over Shane’s pectoral as he did. His cock ached behind his fly.
“What’d he do next? Tell me what he’d do to me, Van. Show me.”
“Stand up,” Van told him and Shane did. The bulge in his jeans was eye-level. Van couldn’t wait to see what he was packing, couldn’t wait to see how beautiful his dick was—because it would be. Every part of a man’s body was gorgeous to him.
“He’d take your pants off next,” Van said. “His fingers might shake because he’d be really fucking eager to see your dick…how long would it be? How thick? How low would your balls hang? What would it look like through the lens of a camera?”
“Oh fuck.” Shane knotted his hand in Van’s hair. “My cock is leaking all over the damn place.”
“I can’t wait to taste it.” Van fumbled with the button and zipper on Shane’s jeans. He pulled them open, saw Shane’s white boxer trunks, his fat bulge and the outline of his cock, and the wet spot. “You really are leaking.”
“My balls are so damn full.”
“Guess we should get to emptying them,” Van said with a smile.
“Guess we should.”
“Your lover would take your pants off next.” Van pulled the jeans and underwear down Shane’s hairy legs. “Sit down,” he told Shane, who did. He pulled Shane’s shoes off, then his pants. The hum under his skin got more and more intense. He wanted Shane’s dick in his mouth. Wanted to tongue his balls. Taste his skin.
“Tell me.” Shane put his hand in Van’s hair again, letting the curls fall through his fingers. “Tell me what he’d do next.”
“He’d do his best to blow your mind.” Van didn’t break eye contact with Shane. Hell, he hardly blinked as they stared at each other. He lapped at Shane’s sac with his tongue, then ran it base-to-tip along his cock.
“Oh fuck,” Shane rushed out.
“Your skin tastes good,” Van told him, before he grabbed Shane’s dick and lowered his mouth over it, taking it as far as he could. He loved sex. Loved touching and licking and tasting. Loved fucking. Maybe because he’d allowed himself to fear who he was so much, that he just wanted to revel in who he was and what he enjoyed.
He swirled his tongue around the crown. Licked the pre-come there. “I had a feeling you’d have a beautiful cock. I’d love to photograph it.” He brushed his fingers over Shane’s length, just softly caressing his hot skin.
“I’d put everyone else to shame,” Shane teased almost uncomfortably, before grabbing the root of his erection and angling it toward Van’s mouth. “Is this where my lover would let me feed it to him?”
Van’s lips tugged into a deep smile. “Yeah, this is where he’d do that.”
He let Shane nudge his lips with the tip of his cock. He rubbed the head over Van’s mouth before saying, “Open up.”
Van did and Shane used his other hand to push him forward, to guide him as he worked Shane’s prick with his mouth.
“Christ, you have a talented mouth,” Shane told him and Van smiled around his dick.
He loved the feel of steel and velvet in his mouth. Loved the musky scent of man in his nostrils. Loved the feel of wiry pubic hair against his face.
When Shane’s head dropped back and his hand fell away, Van took over. He jacked Shane’s cock at the same time he blew him.
He listened, heard, as Shane’s breathing got heavier, sharper. He thrust his hips slightly as Van pleasured him.
Van cupped Shane’s balls, playing with them, brushed his thumb over Shane’s taint. He could feel Shane’s body getting tighter, more rigid, and knew it wouldn’t be long before he got a mouthful.
“Fuck, you feel so goddamned good.” Shane thrust his hips just as he blew, as a jet of his come squirted to the back of Van’s throat. He swallowed it down, sucked harder, was rewarded when Shane shot again, which he just as eagerly swallowed down.
As soon as Shane’s body went lax, Van pushed to his feet. His dick ached, he was so damn hard. His body buzzed. With quick, shaky fingers he pulled his shirt off, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Shoved them and his underwear down enough he could grab his dick. He spit in his hand and started to jerk himself off right over Shane. Brown eyes looked up at him, watching Van work his dick.
His balls were already high and tight. It didn’t take long for the orgasm to rocket through him, for everything to feel fuzzy and his body amped up. His vision blurred as he shot. Come flew against Shane’s chest.
Van kept going, kept jerking until another spurt landed on Shane’s stomach, in the trail of hair that went to his dick, and then another spurt landing on his cock.
“Goddamn, that was a good orgasm,” he said, his knees so weak he thought they might give out on him.
Shane reached out then, rubbed his finger in the come at the tip of Van’s dick, then pulled back, a string following along before it broke.
Van’s pulse suddenly sped up.
He reached over and turned Shane’s head to face him, the way he’d said he would like to photograph him. Positioned his arms on the rests. Shane already leaned back, his legs spread, his flaccid cock in a bed of hair—come on him.
It was almost perfect.
Van leaned down then and took Shane’s mouth. He didn’t know why, but he was surprised when Shane let him. He pushed his tongue in deep, kissed him hard, sucked on his lip; so when he pulled away, Shane’s mouth was red and swollen from kissing.
His head immediately went back into the position Van put it in.
“You’re fucking beautiful like this. It’s exactly the way I’d photograph you.” His hands shook, and he wished like hell Shane would let him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You’re fucking beautiful like this. It’s exactly the way I’d photograph you.”<
br />
Van’s words made a small jolt of excitement race through him. The thought was…thrilling. Exciting in a way nothing in his life ever was. He typically liked calm. He went about his routine every day of work and his mom, because most variations in that usually meant something was going wrong. That his mom was in a depressive cycle.
Gay artists didn’t come to Last Chance, give him head, and talk about taking nude pictures of him. And even though Shane knew he wouldn’t do it, he had to admit, the thought was invigorating…freeing. Like stepping into another life, outside of that town, in the comfort of his own home.
He chuckled.
“What are you laughing at?” Van’s brows pulled together. “I don’t typically have men laughing after I suck them off.”
“Just thinking how fucking crazy this is. I’m naked, laid out by Maxwell Sullivan, who has his dick out and just swallowed my come. Oh, and he’s an erotic artist now, who is telling me how he would take my picture.”
“Would you let me?” he asked.
The ember of excitement inside of him burned brighter, stronger. Still, Shane shook his head. “I don’t think so. You have plenty of California boys for that.” Goose bumps traveled across his skin. Christ, he wanted that. He wanted Van to take nude pictures of him. Wanted to feel like someone else, even if it was a lie. He wanted to feel like those men in the photographs.
Shane stood, grabbed his tee and rubbed the come off himself. He picked up his boxer trunks next and pulled them on.
“I understand. It’s not for everyone. I probably shouldn’t have asked, but if you don’t want to do it, make sure it’s because it’s not your thing and not because you don’t think you can. You forget, I’m not one of those California boys either.”
“You are now,” Shane reminded him. Van just shrugged.
Shane’s eyes traveled down Van’s body—the light dusting of hair on his chest and his soft dick still hanging out of his pants. He was sexy as sin, and he found it didn’t bother him as much as he figured it would that he wanted Van. “Put your dick away before we end up naked together again.” This time, in Shane’s bed.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” Van asked.
“I’m not sure,” Shane answered honestly. He sat down and Van sighed before tucking his junk away and sitting down with his pants unbuttoned and unzipped.
“I didn’t come over for this, but I can’t say I regret it either. I can understand why you might.”
Because their past was such a dark spot in both their lives.
But the thing was…he didn’t regret it. This, what happened, felt good and he needed things in his life that felt good. Things that were for him. “I’m not going to pretend it’s not weird, but I don’t regret it. I enjoyed the hell out of it—I mean, it’s head.”
Van smiled. “Good point.”
And because despite their past, having Van there made Shane feel a little less lonely. He could only compare it to the feeling of being with Caleb all those years ago. Someone there, in Last Chance, that he could connect with on a different level. Ryan was great, but it was different to spend time with another gay man. It might be easier to ignore if that was the only piece of the strange, new friendship with Van that felt good, but it wasn’t. They both had skeletons in their closet that he didn’t come across often in Last Chance.
“I like spending time with you, Shane.”
Goddamn him and his fucking honesty. Shane looked at him. “I like spending time with you too. You’re supposed to be a dickhead.”
Van laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You didn’t.” But it should have. “It’s late. I have to work in the morning. I should probably hit the sack.”
“Yeah, I should get back to Mom’s, too. I’m hoping to get some time to talk with her and start working through a few things.”
“How long will you be in town?” Shane asked.
“I don’t know. Probably a couple weeks—maybe less—depending on how things go with her.”
Shane was quiet for a moment, weighing his words and trying to decide if he really wanted to utter them. The thing was, he did. And why the fuck not? It wasn’t often he had anything for himself other than the shop. Why not spend time with Van until he left? Even if he didn’t get any more BJs out of the deal. “If you’re available tomorrow evening, you’re welcome to come over. We can grill some dinner and…I don’t know.”
“I’d like that,” Van replied. “It’s tough…being in that house, ya know?”
Shane nodded. He felt that way sometimes too. “I hear ya.” He stood. “Come on. I’ll write my phone number down for you.”
They went into the kitchen. Shane grabbed a pad of paper from beside the home phone and scribbled his cell number down. Shane ripped the paper off and handed it to Van.
“I’ll text you so you have my number,” Van said.
He walked Van to the front door and opened it where they both stopped. “You never really know what life will throw at you sometimes, do you?” Van asked.
The thing was, most of the time, Shane did. Life didn’t throw him too many surprises. This was a curveball of all hell. “Guess not.”
“Thank you.”
“For letting you blow me?” Shane teased. “Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?”
“Not if it’s for that. I loved being on my knees for you, but I meant for just letting me be here, despite everything. Not many people would have.”
With that, Van turned and jogged down the stairs. Shane stood and watched him get into his car, stepped out onto the porch as he pulled away, still watching when his taillights disappeared from sight.
*
Van sat in the lobby, waiting for his mother to finish talking to her lawyer, and thinking about Shane. He should probably feel guiltier than he did about the fact that his mom was discussing his dead father’s estate and he was sitting there thinking about sucking dick. But it was more than that too—he was thinking about Shane in general, so that had made him feel a little better.
Van sure as hell hadn’t expected to hook up with him but there also wasn’t a part of him that regretted it. He liked Shane. He was attracted to him. He figured Shane might regret it, though.
He glanced down at his cell and saw that his mother and her lawyer had been in their meeting for half an hour.
Van’s eyes darted up at the sound of a door opening. His mom wore a dress with flowers on it, her arms at her side and her head held high. He could see it in her face, though, the fact that it was an act. That she wanted to fall apart but she wouldn’t give anyone that kind of power over her. Sullivans weren’t weak that way.
She never had been. His father hadn’t been either, and they sure as shit hadn’t wanted Van to be.
“Maxwell, can you join us for a moment?” the lawyer asked, making Van’s stomach twist into knots.
He stood, walked over and held out his hand. “Van. I go by Van now.”
“Nice to meet you, Van. I’m Thomas Chan.” They shook hands before Mr. Chan led them back into his office. Van waited, letting his mother sit first, before taking the seat beside her as Mr. Chan took his seat behind the desk.
“We have some things to go over. Your father left you a sizable amount of money. I’m going to need some signatures and—”
“I don’t want it.” Van’s lips were so tight it was hard to speak. He looked at his mom. “I told you I didn’t want it.”
“Don’t be silly.” His mom shook her head.
“I’m not being silly. I don’t want the money.”
“There are options if you—”
“No,” his mom cut Mr. Chan off. “It’s Max’s money. His father wanted him to have it. Just…give us some time.”
Why didn’t she get it? And why in the hell was she so insistent on that? “Time isn’t going to change anything, Mom. I won’t take that money. It’s yours. You should have it.”
“Why do you have to be so difficult? You’re Maxwell Sullivan, Jr. This i
s your father. He wanted you to have this money. It’s yours.”
“I’m Van.” It felt like he hadn’t stopped saying those words in the couple days he’d been back. He wasn’t Maxwell Sullivan, no matter what his birth certificate said.
“That is not who you are.”
Jesus. “I’m sure as shit not my father’s son.”
Her eyes began to well with tears. That was where he should apologize but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Mr. Chan cleared his throat. “What about the bank?”
“What about it?” he asked, the hairs on his arm rising.
“It’s been left to both you and your mother—you as the primary.”
“What the fuck do I know about running a bank?” Van shot forward in his seat. He didn’t know how he hadn’t even thought of the bank. “Who’s been taking care of things now?”
“Charles, the manager, and myself,” his mom answered with a sharp edge to her voice.
“I’ll leave the two of you alone for a moment.” Van didn’t look up at the lawyer as he slipped from the room.
“What was he thinking?” Van ran a hand over his face. Was that his father’s way of trying to apologize? That didn’t fit with the man his father had been. He never apologized for anything. Was that his way to try and get Van back to Last Chance? To try to tie him somewhere he knew Van didn’t want to be? And what about his mom? “What about you? You’re his wife.”
“Yes, I am. And whether you like it or not, you’re our son, Max. I agreed to this. I knew what your father’s wishes were and I damn sure plan to do my best to honor them.”
“Why?” he asked. “You don’t want me here. You can’t. Not knowing what you do about me. I’m not going to change, Mom. You accept me as I am or not at all.”
His heart sped up and his palms began to sweat. He wanted her to accept him. Maybe needed it, in some small way.
“The way you accepted your father for who he was, flaws and all?”