The Librarian's Rake

by Z. Allora

  Shaking his head, Tristan said, “I can—”

  “Conrad can get me there and back. We might even see a movie or something.”

  “Or something….” Phillip’s grandfather had a wolfish grin that took away any doubt he wasn’t putting the moves on Thomas.

  Thomas didn’t comment but turned toward the ladies doing water aerobics in the pool.

  Tristan’s glance darted between the two grandfathers, then landed on Phillip.

  What?

  After clearing his throat, Tristan announced, “Um, I guess I should be going. I’ve got an event at the library tonight.”

  “You work too much. You should have some fun.” Thomas hissed when he stood straight. “Let me get the car keys. I’ll take you back to the library.”

  “Nonsense, Pop-Pop. You shouldn’t be driving. Stay off your knee. I’ll call Uber.” Tristan started tapping his phone.

  “I can give you a ride.” Phillip found himself volunteering without thinking. Shit! He certainly would give Tristan any kind of ride he wanted, but what scared Phillip was he actually wanted to get a little more time with Tristan.

  When had he wanted to spend even a moment beyond the time it took to get off? The answer was never.

  “That’s okay. I don’t have a helmet.” Tristan didn’t even peek away from his phone.

  Phillip’s grandfather jumped out of his chair. “You can borrow mine.”

  “Yes, that’s good. Thank you, Conrad,” Thomas said as Phillip’s grandfather headed off on a mission. He gestured at Tristan’s phone. “Cancel the Uber.”

  “But—”

  “Tristan, you don’t want to insult Phillip.”

  Sighing, Tristan asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Very.” And Phillip was. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

  “Just to the library…. Um, that’s where my car is. The garage that worked on the car is just down the street, and—”

  Phillip’s granddaddy returned. “Here you are.”

  Tristan stared but didn’t reach for the helmet he held out.

  Stepping in between his granddaddy and Tristan, Phillip took the helmet. “I got it.” He set the helmet on Tristan’s head and adjusted the strap, allowing his fingers to graze Tristan’s stubble on his strong jawline.

  Smiling at Thomas, Phillip shook his hand. “Nice meeting you. I’ll take good care of your grandson.”

  “I’ve no doubt.” Thomas grinned over at Tristan.

  Tristan exhaled hard and seemed to study the cracks in the concrete under the table.

  Phillip hugged his granddaddy.

  Tristan fussed with the helmet like it offended him. “Pop-Pop, please use your brace and call me if you need anything.”

  “I’ll make sure he has everything he wants,” Granddaddy promised with a grin.

  Thomas cocked his head and stared at Granddaddy with his mouth open. Phillip couldn’t be sure whether Thomas’s expression was confusion or his considering the offer.

  Tristan shook hands with Granddaddy and then hugged his own.

  Biting back a smile at the helmet that looked out of place on Tristan’s head, Phillip tugged him toward the parking lot.

  Tristan eyed Phillip’s bike with suspicion.

  “What’s the matter?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never… been on a motorcycle before.”

  Phillip wasn’t surprised. “Really? What else haven’t you done?”

  “A lot.”

  Well, fuck!

  Chapter 2

  THE BEAUTIFUL man in front of Tristan on the motorcycle put on his own helmet, then twisted around to yell over the engine. “Where to, Tris?”

  So many flirty responses that would never make it out of Tristan’s mouth danced through his head. He settled for “Just the library, if it’s not too much trouble?”

  “Over on Oak?”

  Tristan nodded. The helmet rocked back and forth on his head, making him feel like a bobblehead doll.

  “Hold on,” Phillip yelled.

  Tristan carefully placed his hands on Phillip’s lean hips. It had been way too long since he’d touched another man, because his body screamed, Playtime!

  How long since he’d had his arms around a man? Long enough that his cock began talking. Four months and nine days since Frederick C. Simon III told him their relationship had come to an end due to lack of excitement and Tristan’s unwillingness to experiment sexually.

  In truth, it could have been much longer, because he and Frederick never had a sexual spark. There had been nothing to sputter into extinction. They simply drifted apart.

  Maybe Tristan wasn’t good at relationships. Frederick had the honor of being his second boyfriend, and they’d been together two years. Tristan had convinced himself he didn’t need clichéd fireworks or chemistry to be happy with someone. He certainly didn’t want the accompanying drama that appeared to follow such highs.

  There was something to be said for quiet compatibility and common interests. No, a nauseating roller-coaster relationship wasn’t for him. Steady companionship was what he’d sought and what he’d thought Frederick wanted as well.

  Apparently not. Frederick had more ambitious dreams, like sex on the beach. And he hadn’t been talking about the cocktail. The man wanted to have sex in public. Like in dance clubs… meaning Tristan would have to go to one of those places where sweaty bodies congregated to gyrate against one another, and then what?

  Was he supposed to march off to the restroom to do his boyfriend? Maybe act like a mindless rutting animal hell-bent on his release. Wild fantasies aside, Tristan wasn’t like that.

  There was a time and a place for everything, and bar bathrooms were not the place for—he couldn’t even imagine using the facilities, let alone having sex in one of those vile stalls. Most probably didn’t even have doors.

  Frederick’s answer had been to suggest a video cubicle in a dirty bookstore. Him? Did the man really expect a librarian to pray at the altar of glory holes and pornography? Was he serious? Had he thought the loud music caused Tristan to reject the club idea?

  What was wrong with a bed?

  The bike shot forward and forced him to wrap his arms around Phillip. He clenched his teeth against screaming, Please! I’m an organ donor, but I don’t want to donate today!

  Though Phillip was smaller than the men Tristan had been with in the past, he wasn’t fragile, just built differently, triggering—what is that? He identified the feeling as a desire to protect Phillip.

  Experience had taught Tristan that beautiful men like Phillip had no need for protection and no time for him. The high school flutist and later, in college, theater and dance majors, had shown zero interest in a dreary pseudointellectual. He added free spirits of the LGBTQIA support group Out and Proud to the list of men who avoided him and his too-reserved, dull, tedious world.

  Boring! Maybe Frederick’s assessment hadn’t been off, but it hurt nonetheless to know the description held merit.

  Phillip’s attitude and confidence, which were probably earned with bedpost notches, warned him this man did not need his protection and wouldn’t want it from him even if he did.

  A deep inhale gave him a familiar whiff of Colonia Leather Eau de Cologne Concentrée by Acqua di Parma—his favorite cologne, the only one he wore when he bothered to wear any. At over fifty bucks an ounce, he saved it for very special occasions. Therefore, another inhalation of the delicious leathery musk could be justified as being thrifty.

  Normally he had himself under control, but not today. It was irritating, exhilarating, and very wrong to have an erection caused by such casual contact. He hoped Phillip couldn’t feel his hard cock pushing against him like Tristan was a dog in heat.

  The fates were never kind to Tristan, and here was the proof. They tormented him. Phillip twitched in the seat, then wiggled back farther and pressed against Tristan. The move pushed Tristan down even more firmly against the already buzzing bike seat, which gave unexpected promis
es to his testicles.

  Braced between heaven and hell, Tristan could only hold tight. The cheeks of Phillip’s butt, encased in those tight jeans, shifted and settled over his erection like some sort of perverse tongue-and-groove lock. He’d never had such delicious teasing, and the surprising lust made him dizzy.

  Did Phillip even know the effect he had on him? God, Tristan hoped not.

  What would it be like to have the attention of this wild… rake? Rake! Goodness Christmas! How did he get trapped in the Regency novel the library book club insisted on reading this month? He might as well be the desperate virgin duchess whose elderly husband died before he bedded her, with all of Tristan’s lack of experience in comparison to the man in front of him.

  The lean body he clasped undulated, allowing him to imagine Phillip writhing in ecstasy. That was all it took for Tristan’s overly rich fantasy world to kick in.

  First, he’d kiss Phillip until passion made the man mindless and begging for Tristan to have him. He’d tantalize him a little longer, bringing forth whimpers of need. He ignored the fact he’d never done so with any of his past lovers.

  No, Tristan would never be one to leave a lover’s desires unsatisfied, at least in his head. He’d slip down and pay loving attention to Phillip’s opening with his tongue and fingers. Oh, how he’d lick and relax the muscles of Phillip’s perfect backside until Phillip would welcome him inside. Then he’d fervently make love to Phillip until they were breathlessly sated.

  Son of a mother duck! What was he doing? Writing a script to a bodice ripper? Oh, the book club had too much influence on him. He’d convince everyone they needed to read nonfiction next month.

  In truth, Tristan found sex an awkward affair that usually left him with a sense of vague disappointment. And as his two relationships had settled, the sex slipped into a clumsy activity accomplished by rote. He supposed that was normal.

  Of course, he’d never shared any of his wild fantasies of scorching hot urges with his boyfriends or anyone else. He kept those embarrassments locked away, so maybe it didn’t come as a surprise he hadn’t accomplished any of them. But as far as advocating for the chance to debauch a man like Phillip? That wasn’t even in the realm of possibility in a bed… let alone against a wall.

  The motorcycle pulled into the half-filled library parking lot. Snapping out of what would never be, even if he had the nerve to make it happen, he saw the sign announcing Film & Discussion Night.

  Right. This could be identified as one of the highlights of his week.

  It gave him an opportunity to convince the locals that the public library was an important part of the community and justified the county buying out a defunct video rental store. The library now had a huge DVD collection. It encouraged people who lacked the internet and channels beyond basic cable to enjoy movies, albeit dated films.

  Tristan got away from the temptation of Phillip’s body by swinging his leg off the back of the bike. Soon enough he had both feet on the ground.

  Phillip leaned forward as if presenting his perfectly fuckable ass for Tristan’s approval. As crude as that word fuckable happened to be… it fit, and… Tristan would like to see if he fit too. He repositioned himself, trying to hide his erection from hell as it throbbed. There would be no opportunity for relief anytime soon.

  What is wrong with me?

  Everything in Tristan desired to drag the imp into his office and take them both into a fictional oblivion. Wow, that was a completely inappropriate thought. Why, he didn’t even know Phillip. But mmmmm, that ass and those lips and—

  “Hi, Mr. Cooper!” A perky tiny voice echoed through the lot.

  Luck still ignored him.

  No place to hide. Tristan took off his helmet, held it in front of himself, and pasted a smile on his face. “Um, hi, Joey. Hello, Mr. Simons.”

  The ruby-cheeked cherub did not evaporate into the ether as Tristan hoped. Instead he asked, “Is that your boyfriend or your husband? Daddy said he could be either.”

  “I also said they might be friends, and more importantly, I told you we mind our business. I’m sorry, Tristan. See you for story time on Wednesday.” Mr. Simons waved and tugged the five-year-old craning his neck to give Tristan a missing-tooth grin down the street to an SUV.

  Tristan handed Phillip back the helmet and let the man get on with his no doubt more exciting life and—

  The side door banged open. “Mr. Cooper! Thank God you’re here. OMG! I can’t find the movie for tonight!” His favorite high school volunteer shouted from the doorway like the building was on fire.

  “I’ll be right there.” Tristan restrained a sigh when the door slammed shut. “Thank you for the ride, Phillip…. Um, nice meeting you.”

  Phillip glanced around Tristan to the library built in the 1920s Art Deco style. “Movie night? What are you showing?”

  “The kids chose an older romantic comedy. Benny & Joon.” He waited for Phillip to scoff at the movie.

  Phillip’s eyes lit with what Tristan could only categorize as… happiness? “I love that movie!”

  “Really?” That did not match his expectations at all.

  “What? You think I don’t watch anything other than porn?” Phillip’s smirk almost hid the hurt undertone in his voice.

  Yes! “No, I—”

  “So, can anyone go?” His lips turned into a demonic smile. How was he both teasing and alluring at the same time?

  No! “Um, yes? It’s a public library. Open to, well… everyone. So yes, anyone can go.” Tristan didn’t mean to sound like a rambling, condescending prick, but out of his element, meaning away from books, he usually did.

  Phillip stared at him. Tristan didn’t think he imagined that Phillip saw far more than most people.

  “I need to go. Feel free to join us for the movie if you’d like.” There, that was almost welcoming, wasn’t it? Tristan headed to the side door. He had a job to do.

  “What would you like?” Phillip studied Tristan like he might have the answer to the mysteries of the universe.

  Tristan turned with his hand on the door handle. “What does that matter?”

  Phillip shrugged. “It matters. Should I stay?”

  Why was the guy putting him on the spot? “You said you loved the movie—”

  The door popped open, knocking him in the shoulder. “Mr.—Oh! Sorry. I really can’t find the video, Mr. Cooper.” Jemma’s whine cut through the confusion and saved Tristan from giving a real answer.

  “I’m coming right in.” The exasperated teen disappeared, and Tristan turned back to Phillip. “Okay, I have to track down the missing movie.”

  Phillip leaned against the bike like a modern-day James Dean. He was all confidence and attitude, appearing far too sexy for any part of this town, especially the library. But there he was… waiting?

  A stupid impulse took Tristan. “I hope to see you later. Will I?” Why, oh why, had he asked? Even worse—why, oh why, did he care?

  The crooked smirk Phillip gave him said Tristan had lost but somehow also won a battle he didn’t even know he’d fought. “You will.”

  After he opened the door, just like Psyche, Tristan couldn’t deny a peek over his shoulder. Phillip looked a little bit like an adult version of Cupid. Blond, with angled cheekbones models had surgeries to achieve, but somehow his pert nose and perfectly shaped tempting pink lips allowed his face to retain a sweet quality.

  Tristan forced himself to step inside and into his office to find his high school intern, hands on hips with a scrunched-up face, circling the room like Benny & Joon would jump out at her from the light green walls.

  Tristan solved the mystery for her. “I put the DVD in my desk. I guess you didn’t get my note.”

  “Note?” Jemma spun toward him and pulled out her cell phone. She tapped and scrolled but then looked at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t get any email or texts from you.”

  “Didn’t you check your bin?” Walking over to the stack of trays with all the volunteers
’ names confirmed the answer. He pulled out the slip of paper and handed it to her.

  She read it, and her cheeks took on a pretty pink. “Oh.” Hurrying to his desk, she pulled the DVD from the top drawer. “I’ll go finish putting out the snacks. We’ve got a good crowd tonight!”

  “Great.”

  He checked the mail, his email, returned a call, and then, not finding anything else he could do to keep him in his office, he ambled to the area dedicated for the movie screenings. Each week the high school interns convinced more of their friends to attend, and the donations of snacks became more elaborate.

  This week the donations were chocolate cupcakes and Vitamin Water. A black curtain draped between the makeshift theater’s screen and the rest of the library to darken the area.

  Phillip smiled so big at him little creases marred the corners of his blue eyes, but those eyes were lit with delight, and they did something magical.

  Tristan’s heart did a backflip. Had he ever had such a man show him attention? No. Never. And it felt… surreal and astounding.

  He returned the smile, probably looking like an idiot, but right then, he didn’t care.

  The high schoolers, who lacked decorum, oohed, and several women in the audience glanced from him to the target of his grin.

  What was he doing? Oh yes. He cleared his throat. “Tonight’s movie is Benny & Joon from 1993. It’s a romantic comedy.” Several of the boys in the audience groaned. “It might encourage you to cook… or at least make cheese sandwiches.”

  The adults laughed, and the kids squinted, whispering among themselves.

  “Enjoy the movie.” He nodded to Jemma, who started the DVD player.

  Tristan intended to escape to the safety of his office, but Phillip waved him to where he sat in the back row. Ignoring the sweeping gesture to the open row wasn’t an option. The awes for him simply accepting a chair were worthy of an engagement proposal.

  As the movie progressed, he tried to pay attention. Had the distance between their chairs been altered? They seemed too close, but to push away would disturb the others. Though the proximity to this gorgeous man was too enticing to expect his libido wouldn’t make a wish list. A checklist of all the sensuous things Tristan wanted to do, as if he’d ever be given the opportunity.