by Beth Bolden
And then, suddenly, like a light flashing on, it didn’t even matter.
Evan reached over and grabbed the hem of Miles’ t-shirt and jerked him closer. “Then let’s start over,” he said, and kissed him.
It probably wasn’t the best line ever. It wasn’t even the most successful line, but that didn’t matter because Miles’ mouth was on his. Pleasure roared through Evan like a freight train. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d wanted until he could just take, so he did.
He fisted his hand in the hair that he’d been watching and wanting for eight months, and it was just as soft and necessary as Evan had imagined it would be. It also proved handy to use as a directional force because Miles went just where Evan wanted him, sliding right back against the counter, his mouth a hot brand against Evan’s.
It turned out that seduction was easy when you just took what you wanted. Evan took Miles’ mouth, his hair, and then his body as his other hand slid right down his back, fingers testing and touching every lean inch of muscle the way his eyes had for the last week.
It was also easy when you didn’t think, when you let the fire of desire consume everything—every fear, every worry, every quietly murmured doubt.
Evan flipped up the hem of Miles’ t-shirt, and slid his hand right up the skin of his back.
It felt even more incredible than he’d imagined, and then Miles moaned, something wild and free and unhinged, like he was torn apart by Evan kissing him, by Evan pursuing him.
It wasn’t like Evan didn’t think he was worth wanting; it was more complicated than that. And Evan didn’t want to do complicated right now. He’d done complicated his whole damn life, and right now a really cute boy was kissing him and beginning to sort of grind against his thigh, his hard cock definitely mirroring Evan’s own.
It was so easy to just say, fuck it.
When Evan broke the kiss with a gasp, Miles’ lips were red and wet, the same color as the raspberry strawberry tarts he’d made that had started everything. And it was so easy to tangle his fingers deeper into Miles’ curls. Evan had barely even begun to push when Miles tore the floor right out from under Evan and sunk to his knees.
Yeah, Evan definitely wanted that, but he’d also never conceptualized that it was a thing that could actually happen.
He watched as Miles unbuckled his belt with legitimately trembling fingers. Something Evan had always been sure only happened in overwrought porn. But his own fingers didn’t feel so steady either, so it could definitely happen, especially when the moment felt like this and you were so close to the edge you could tumble right off with only a gentle nudge.
There was no time to worry. No time to second-guess. Miles already had his cock out, pleasure spiking as he stroked it expertly with those long, slender fingers that Evan had already been fantasizing about for months.
Then Miles lowered his mouth, and Evan stopped thinking at all. There was only a fuzzy haze of bliss blanketing everything, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Evan just let himself feel it. Up until the moment his cock slipped out of Miles’ mouth and he realized that Miles was babbling helplessly as his fingers reached back and gripped Evan tight by the ass, each of his ten fingers branding him.
“God, your ass in these pants,” he was mumbling, “I love it so damn much.”
And like the worst nightmare in the world, a single, blinding flash.
I really hate your face.
Evan tried to push it aside. He worked really hard, so hard in fact, that he felt himself grow the opposite. And then the flare of embarrassment as he couldn’t help but flash back to every single damning word of that email. All those disparaging, drunk, stupid words.
He wrenched his body away, his softening dick falling from Miles’ worshipful fingers.
Evan couldn’t look down, couldn’t see Miles’ face as he realized everything was wrong.
His fingers were still trembling stupidly as he stuffed himself back in his briefs and zipped his fly. His belt buckle was hopeless and he just left it dangling uselessly.
“What’s going on?” Miles asked softly. Carefully. Like he was afraid he’d spook a wild animal.
And it was Evan who was the wild animal; the wild card who’d just lost his mind and let Miles blow him and then lost the whole train because he couldn’t forget—not really, not when it counted—that Miles didn’t really like him.
Evan remembered too many homes he’d lived in, where the kids’ faces would change the moment he walked in the room. And then how they’d suck up later that night, begging for Evan to do their homework for them.
He remembered every single time he’d gone to bed with that sick feeling in his stomach. Needed for something but never really liked. Never respected. Always used.
It turned out that it didn’t feel different even if he was the one doing the using.
“I can’t do this,” Evan said, and to his own shock, his voice was steady. Rock steady. Like his belt wasn’t dangling undone, and Miles wasn’t still on his knees in his kitchen.
“It just . . .” Miles said, and then hesitated. And yeah, Evan didn’t know what to say either. How else did you address the elephant in the room that the guy you were blowing suddenly and inexplicably lost his hard-on?
“It happened,” Evan said with a hard edge, and forced himself to turn back and meet Miles’ eyes straight on. To take in his position and remember that it was Evan who had put him there. “It’s not going to happen again.”
“You’re the one who showed up on my doorstep!” Miles exclaimed, pulling himself upright.
“Yes, well, I wanted to check in with you before tomorrow. And now that I have, I’ll be going,” Evan said. He picked up his wine glass, letting the rest of the alcohol slide down his throat. It didn’t help. He set the glass on the counter with a decisive click.
“Wait,” Miles said. “Don’t go. You haven’t even had dinner yet.”
“That’s your dinner, not mine,” Evan said. It hurt, realizing that it was probably never going to be his dinner. But the short-term pain was easier than the long term; he’d learned that the hard way.
“Why are you being like this?” Miles asked, and yeah, he was definitely annoyed.
“I’m being this way because we cleared the air, we had a nice glass of wine together, and now you want more out of me. But it's not going to happen. This wasn’t some sort of impromptu date.”
“You can’t ignore this,” Miles protested. “You wanted it too. I know you did.” He didn’t even have to say, I had your dick in my mouth and it was hard and you wanted it. You wanted to come.
“But I am ignoring it,” Evan said, pulling the door open, “I’m exercising my right not to deal with this.”
Evan shouldn’t have been surprised that Miles followed him right out the door, socks and all. Really, he should have just kept going and not stopped, therefore tipping Miles off to the fact they lived next door to each other. A fact Evan had been very determined to keep to himself.
“What are you doing?” Miles stood, shock on his features as Evan pulled out his keys and proceeded to unlock his door.
“Going home,” Evan shot over with a challenging look.
“You live next door,” he stated incredulously.
“Five Points owns this building. Reed got me a good deal when I was looking for a new place.”
“Just like my ‘good deal,’” Miles said wonderingly. “I wondered why it seemed so convenient.”
Evan rolled his eyes. “You should read your lease a lot more carefully. This place is rented to you as long as you’re an employee of Five Points.”
Miles didn’t look phased for a moment, and Evan figured that was because he’d never been desperate and on the edge of homeless. If it ever happened to him, he’d learn to read his leases.
Tapping his foot impatiently, Evan asked, “Are we done here?”
It was so sudden, Evan would tell himself that was why he didn’t see it coming. Except that Miles uttered s
ome stupid line first about, “one more thing,” and that should have been all the warning Evan needed that he was going to take another three steps, cup Evan’s chin in one beautiful hand, and kiss him again.
Later, Evan would also tell himself that the reason he didn’t stop it right away was because he was so surprised, but how could that really be true after what had just happened?
So if Evan fell into the kiss, let his head be tipped back against his door, let his mouth be nearly ransacked by Miles’ mouth, let himself wonder if that was his slightly salty taste, then that was his own damn fault.
Then Miles broke the kiss way too soon, leaving Evan wanting more and again and everything, but it was all useless, and Miles’ lips, wet and red, superseded anything else.
“You weren’t supposed to do that again,” Evan said unsteadily, because the blood had left his brain again and taken a fast route to his cock. He shifted his hips away from Miles, because even though he’d probably already felt his hard-on, Evan didn’t need him to gloat about it. Yes, it was back. No, this still wasn’t happening.
Miles placed a finger right on his damp lips to shut him up. “I know what you’re about to say,” he said, “and I’m just going to stop you there, before you say it.”
Evan glared, but Miles didn’t move. “Besides,” Miles said, with a cute little shrug that Evan wanted to hate, but didn’t, “we both know everything you were about to say was some bullshit you’re trying to believe and that I don’t believe at all.”
Evan backed up a step, and then another, even though this was his doorway. Miles’ hand fell to his side, and he was free to insist that Miles was the one who was full of bullshit, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know how to refute something so blindingly obvious.
“Don’t ever do that again.” Evan crossed his arms over his chest—because, defiant body language and also it kept Miles at arm’s length while Evan tried to figure out what to do with him.
“Kiss you?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Blow you? I’m happy to do both again.”
“Shut me up,” Evan corrected. “Besides, I’m hardly the one who needs to stop talking. Or typing.”
Evan’s bomb hit Miles just the way he’d expected it too. Hard. And it left a trail of guilt and shame in its wake. It should have made Evan feel better, but it turned out that he didn’t like seeing Miles look like a kicked puppy. The aggressively charming, certain-of-his-own-charisma Miles was a lot more fun. Evan licked his lips, and tried not to think about why that might be.
“I should really . . . apologize for that,” Miles mumbled.
“For what?” Evan asked, loudly and clearly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that.”
“I was an asshole. I wrote some asshole things. None of which I really meant, by the way. And I’m sorry.”
Evan shot him a level stare. “Five point seven points for execution, three point eight points for technique. And don’t even get me started on sincerity.”
“What?” Miles exclaimed, a little of his fight coming back. “I totally meant that. I am sorry.”
“And yet it took you days to apologize.” Evan paused. “Now that we’ve established that I’m good enough to blow, but not good enough to apologize to, I’m going in my apartment now. Move.”
Miles conceded the doorway with a shambling, ashamed motion that made Evan feel even guiltier. And it wasn’t his responsibility to feel guilty! He wasn’t the one who’d written that email and then not apologized for it. Anything he wanted to ding Miles for, he should be free and clear to ding away.
It didn’t matter that he’d spent the last week convincing himself that the email meant nothing and that he hadn’t cared that Miles had sent it, because it was clearly all bullshit.
It mattered. Miles mattered.
* * *
Desire was fine and good when everyone had a good time and got their rocks off. But sometimes desire was slippery, and you couldn’t get a handle on it.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Miles had given Evan half a blowjob. He’d been enjoying himself so much he’d ached with it. Had been tempted, with Evan’s dick in his mouth, to slide his hand down the front of his pants and hump his own palm.
It was tempting to do it now. Miles still didn’t know what had stopped him after he’d gone back to his own apartment, and he’d spent the rest of the night sulking. He didn’t know what was stopping him now.
Maybe because what he wanted was something he couldn’t have, and the idea of settling for his own hand felt paltry in comparison.
If he couldn’t have Evan, maybe at least he could think about him. Miles imagined that tight rounded ass naked, spread out for him on his bed. Evan, glancing back, desire written all over his face, pleading for Miles to touch him.
No. Miles shredded that fantasy, unhappy with it as he palmed himself through his boxer briefs. He was already hard—had barely gone soft since he’d been on his knees in the kitchen—and there was a damp spot in the cotton.
It would be so easy to get off. He just needed the right image. The perfect image. Miles rolled through them, one after another. Evan bending over, Evan on all fours, Evan on his knees, Evan with a cruel smile on his face as his fist wrapped around Miles’ dick.
Pleasure arched through him as Miles shoved his underwear aside and gripped himself. That was what he wanted. He didn’t want Evan on his knees for him. He wanted Evan owning up to every bit of his own power and control. He wanted Evan completely in control and completely under Miles’ spell.
It was rougher than Miles usually liked, but that added to the swirl of fantasy in his own head. Evan, smiling with a hint of teeth as he worked him over good, thumb swiping over the head and making Miles moan.
Miles was making himself moan, but suddenly that didn’t matter. It was Evan doing it. Evan was in charge. Evan was wringing this pleasure out of his body. Only Evan.
He couldn’t even enjoy the hot burst of pleasure from his orgasm because he was already panicking about what it meant.
He wanted Evan, but Evan was pissed off. Evan might even hate him a little. And he might have a legitimate reason. Miles groaned and grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table. He should feel more relaxed now, his problem taken care of, but instead he felt edgier than ever.
What could he say to Evan so he would forgive him? Was it even possible or was Miles chasing after a pipe dream? Was he going to be resigned to forever fantasizing about Evan in his bed and never actually having him?
* * *
Evan didn’t hesitate when he got back inside his apartment. He immediately headed for the shower and sanity. Stripping his clothes off, he turned the water on as hot as he could stand.
He ducked his head under the spray and hissed as the water beat down over his forehead.
Evan had known it was a mistake a long time ago to start thinking about Miles while jacking off. He’d always been afraid it would make things weird between them if and when Miles came to work at Five Points. It turned out that, ironically, Evan thinking about him while orgasming was hardly the weirdest part of their relationship.
He gave himself a tentative pump, and yeah, he was still hard, and still definitely into at least thinking about Miles while getting off.
Maybe he wasn’t ready yet for Miles to actually be involved, but it was still so easy to just let his mind drift and settle on an image of them together.
Him bent over the kitchen counter, Miles sliding into him slowly, just thick enough to make him ache and feel it the next day. His hand caressing his back, letting him know how much he cared, even as his cock made sure Evan knew just how much he wanted him. Evan’s hand sped up on his own dick, rough and careless, as he chased the pleasure he imagined Miles could give him.
It was over too soon, but Evan knew he’d been too worked up to last. He could still feel the ghost of Miles’ mouth around him, and how wet and warm it had been. And that last thought was all it took to blow his load against the tile wall. He le
t out a groan, and wondered, just for a second, if Miles could hear. If Miles would know what he was doing.
If Miles was maybe doing the same thing.
Chapter Nine
Evan was pissed. Miles had (very) belatedly realized this last night, and had spent the morning realizing just how pissed he was.
The thing about Evan was that he wasn’t like anyone else Miles knew. Nobody else could have been that angry and just hid it all, so completely, even the person he was angry at didn’t know. Nobody else could have kissed him, and been as hard as he was, lost to the pleasure Miles was giving him, and feel the anger he did.
Miles felt incredibly stupid that he hadn’t seen it before, but then he reminded himself that Evan must have worked hard to conceal it. It wasn’t like Miles was incredibly oblivious. The truth was that Evan hadn’t wanted him to know, and then suddenly he was practically shouting about how it had been too many days with too few apologies.
A tiny voice whispered in the back of Miles’ head that Evan must be high maintenance, which was why he was so hot and so available, and yet so damn difficult, but Miles didn’t think that was really it. There was something else going on, and Miles was determined to figure out what it was.
Even if Evan ended up right, and nothing else ended up happening between them, he still wanted to know. Which was a state of mind that Miles wasn’t used to. He was used to not really caring too much about anything that wasn’t in the kitchen. Now the joke was on him, because his life had been in a state of chaos ever since he’d met Evan, and he still couldn’t walk away.
It would have been way easier, Miles reflected miserably, skulking behind Evan as he pushed the cart through the restaurant supply store.