Straight Up

by K. Evan Coles

  The denial had added another level to his pleasure, and it felt good to go at Malcolm’s pace. Making Malcolm feel safe and relaxed was at least as pleasurable as anything else they could have done, though Stuart did look forward to everything they had yet to explore. What they had yet to explore together dizzied him. While Malcolm had been intimate with women before, he hadn’t with a man, and the idea of introducing Malcolm to everything for the first time made Stuart’s blood heat.

  Of course, that was assuming Malcolm wanted to explore all those things. If he didn’t… Well, they’d have to cross that bridge when they got to it. If Malcolm didn’t want to have sex, would they be able to sustain the relationship? Stuart wanted to, although he also had no idea if he could go without sex long-term. Be patient? Absolutely. Abstain completely except for masturbation? Well, that remained to be seen. In the meantime, he’d let Malcolm set the pace and remain open-minded.

  When the door to the cooler opened, Stuart turned and came face-to-face with a concerned-looking Vera.

  “Everything okay, Chef? You’ve been in here a while.”

  “Yes.” Stuart smiled. “Everything’s great.”

  She gave him a puzzled smile in return, retrieved some shallots, then left. Stuart forced himself to continue his careful inventory, making sure each item was where it was supposed to be, matched with the delivery inventory and stored in accordance with the health department codes.

  Deliveries had arrived and bags of flour and slabs of meat were lined up near the service entrance. The scent of fresh vegetables with dirt still clinging to them filled the air and he opened a crate stuffed with Spanish cheeses, Greek olives and Indian peppercorns. Stuart also double-checked the work of the cooks who’d closed the night before and made sure everything was in readiness for the day ahead, then checked the equipment and made sure the entire kitchen was spotless.

  After, he went to the office with Hugh, the P.M. sous chef, and caught up on some of the drama in the service industry.

  “You haven’t come out with us for drinks after work lately,” Hugh said. He’d just finished telling Stuart about sexual harassment allegations against Jake Mann, a well-known executive chef at a restaurant on the other side of Midtown. Horrifying stuff. Stuart was doubly grateful to be working for someone like Marisol. Not just because she was a fellow queer person but because she was one of the most ethical people Stuart had ever worked for, inside the restaurant business and otherwise. “If you’d come out with us more, you’d be up to date on all of this.”

  Stuart shrugged. “I’m seeing someone. I’ve been spending all my free time with him.”

  “Oh, well then.” Hugh grinned and winked. “That’s allowed, I suppose. We should probably discuss where we’re at for dinner prep.”

  Their focus turned to the day ahead and they walked back to the kitchen. Stocks were simmering, garlic was peeled, herbs were snipped, shrimp had been peeled and deveined, along with a host of other tasks, so everything was under control. Gustavo, the rôtisseur, who was in charge of preparing meat, would be in soon and the kitchen was already buzzing with activity.

  Marisol’s arrival twenty minutes later made spines straighten and everyone snap to attention. She made her usual rounds in the kitchen, greeting the crew and checking their work, before she crooked a finger at Stuart.

  “Come talk to me about the fundraiser last night.”

  Stuart followed her into her office. “It went incredibly well,” he said. “Minus a disaster with the dessert display stand.”

  She winced when he described the shattered glass. “Any injuries?”

  “No.”

  “Who broke it?”

  “One of the servers from Lock & Key.”

  She nodded. “Makes sense. They wouldn’t have the experience with events like that.”

  “He offered to pay. I told him no.”

  “Good. No reason to make the poor kid go broke trying to cover the cost. I’d bet he’s learned his lesson.”

  “Exactly,” Stuart said. “We made it work with some slate boards and no one noticed the last-minute swap.”

  He ran through the overview of the rest of the night and Marisol looked pleased when he was done.

  “Well, sounds like an unequivocal success to me,” she said. She’d braided her long dark hair while they spoke and now she neatly pinned it up and out of the way.

  “It was,” he agreed. “I’m confident CEC will want to partner with us again on events.”

  “Are you interested in future collaborations?”

  “Yes,” Stuart said without hesitating. “Assuming they want me. CEC was a dream to work with. When the worst issue we had was an inexperienced server breaking a serving piece, that is as good as it gets.” Marisol nodded. “And I’m all for working with Kyle McKee from Under, again. There aren’t many bartenders who put as much care into crafting their cocktails as I do my food.”

  “Excellent. I like building connections like that.”

  “So do I.”

  Marisol snorted. “I know all about you and your connections. How are things going with the CEC guy you were spending time with? Malcolm, right?”

  “Yes. Malcolm and I had a bit of a breakthrough,” Stuart admitted, a smile stealing across his face before he could stop it. “We’re dating. And…beginning to explore what that means for him.”

  “I take it that it’s going well?”

  “It is. It really is.”

  Marisol snickered. “This guy has gotten under your skin, hasn’t he?”

  “I guess he has,” Stuart said. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

  “Good,” she said. “I told you you’d figure it out.”

  Sometimes, Stuart hated when his boss was right. In this case, he was grateful.

  “So, Hugh told me about the sexual harassment allegations at Jake Mann’s place,” he said, moving the conversation away from his personal life.

  “He’s an asshole,” Marisol said. Her mouth turned down in a hard, tight line. “Always has been and we all knew it. I’m sorry he’s been able to get away with it for so long. Hopefully, things are improving.”

  “I’m grateful to work for you, you know?” Stuart said. “As a guy, I’m rarely going to have to deal with that sort of thing. Plus, I’m big and scary enough that few people would try. I could have had to deal with a lot of shit about my sexuality, though, and I just wanted you to know I appreciate the culture you’ve created here.”

  “And I’m grateful to you for all of the hard work you do to make this place a success,” she said with a small, rare smile.

  Stuart straightened in his chair as he watched her shift into work mode. “Now, let’s discuss tonight.”

  * * * *

  “Service!” Stuart called, and Mike, the back waiter, appeared to whisk the plate of pork loin off to the customer who had ordered it. Everyone in the kitchen let out an audible sigh of relief after he’d disappeared through the swinging doors. Stuart stretched, feeling the burn between his shoulder blades from having been hunched over the pass, plating almost a hundred and fifty dishes tonight.

  It had been surprisingly busy for a Sunday evening. They’d had more walk-in customers than usual, so the kitchen had been working at full tilt over the past few hours. Not as bad as a Friday or Saturday night, yet still busy. Now that the final order of the evening was off to the front of the house, Stuart could wrap up his day and head home.

  “Start breaking down,” he called out to the cooks. They would send their smallwares—pots and pans, cutting boards and the like—to the dishwasher. They’d log and label the leftover ingredients and store them overnight. Hugh would do his closing sous chef duties and oversee all of it, but Stuart was done for the night.

  He changed out of his uniform and back into street clothes. On his way out of the restaurant, he waved to the people pulling up the carpet runners and emptying the trash and thanked them for their hard work.

  It was cooler in the alley, thou
gh not much. The heat of the summer day hadn’t dissipated yet and Stuart was looking forward to the cool wind that would blow across him on his drive home. He was tired from the long day and eager to take a shower.

  The ride home brought him to life again, and after the shower, he felt almost human. He thought of Malcolm as he rubbed a towel across his body, soaking up the water droplets that still clung to his skin. Rather than change into his usual shorts and tank, he hung the towel over the curtain rod and walked across the room, nude.

  Memories of the night before washed over him. Malcolm’s gaze as he’d looked Stuart over. His fingertips, then his palms, on Stuart’s skin. Exploring his ink and mapping out his body. Stuart’s cock grew thick as his body buzzed with memories of being touched so slowly and thoroughly.

  The siren song of the lingerie in his dresser called to Stuart, and unable to resist the lure any longer, he crossed the room and knelt down. He didn’t indulge his kink often—it usually made him feel more alone—but he’d been feeling so good since he’d begun dating Malcolm that his need had grown to levels he couldn’t resist. Sliding open the bottom drawer, Stuart sifted his fingers through the soft fabrics, enjoying the tactile pleasures of slippery satin and frothy lace on his work-roughened hands.

  Stuart felt almost hypnotized as he drew out a pair of black panties. He slipped them over his feet and stood, drawing them up his legs, the whisper-light touch of the fabric making his skin tingle. He settled the wide, ribbed band around his hips and cupped his balls and cock to arrange them under the satin triangle of fabric in the front.

  Walking slowly over to the mirror that hung on the back of the closet door, Stuart stared at himself in the lingerie. He turned to look at the view from the back and his cock throbbed at the sight of the fine lace curving across his ass.

  Unlike some men, Stuart didn’t feel feminine when he put panties on. The breadth of his shoulders and the heavy, dark hair of his body were too masculine to hide, and he’d never had any desire to downplay them. In fact, the contrast of the rough hair and vivid tattoos against the delicate fabrics excited him, and he wondered if Malcolm would like that, too. Given his prior experiences, it seemed unlikely, and yet Stuart couldn’t stop imagining it. He settled on the bed, lying down on his back before he began to touch himself. He dragged a hand over the hard length beneath the silky-soft fabric and hummed.

  Stuart stroked his cock through the panties and pictured Malcolm watching him. No, even better, Malcolm touching him. Stuart closed his eyes, imagining Malcolm’s long, slender fingers trailing across the smooth, slippery fabric, gently rubbing the head of Stuart’s cock with his thumb and making a little wetness seep through. The texture alone aroused him and the idea of Malcolm taking part sent his desire into overdrive. It sent a shudder through Stuart, all the way to his toes, and he reached beneath the fabric and wrapped his fist around his shaft, enjoying the slide of the fabric against his knuckles and the feel of his skin against his palm.

  His breathing grew strained as he pictured Malcolm nuzzling his inner thigh and rubbing his cheek across the satiny fabric. He imagined the care with which Malcolm would explore him. Stuart raised his palm and licked it, then took himself in hand, stroking faster and wishing it was Malcolm’s hand and lips on his cock. How would his eyes look as he gazed up at Stuart and took Stuart into his mouth?

  Stuart’s orgasm built fast and insistent and he let out a tortured groan when cum arced up, spattering onto his chest and down his stomach before the last few shots dribbled onto the black fabric of the panties. His chest heaved as the images dissipated like smoke and doubt immediately crept in, overtaking the pleasure.

  Stuart desperately wanted Malcolm to know about his love of lingerie and how much it turned Stuart on to wear them. But what if he reacted poorly?

  Malcolm was so new at all of this. Unused to exploring his sexuality. How could Stuart ask him to not only step outside his comfort zone but leap into unknown waters? Especially because Malcolm didn’t even know where his own comfort zone lay. Men with years of experience had balked at Stuart’s predilections and called him a freak. How could he expect Malcolm to understand?

  Stuart stood, the fear and worry crowding out all the contentment the orgasm had brought him. His stomach clenched as he slid the scrap of fabric off his body. He gripped the underwear tightly in his fist and walked to the sink to wash them.

  He’d spent the years since he’d moved from Utah knowing that building the kind of relationship he wanted would mean full and complete honesty about his kink. If Stuart wanted that kind of life with Malcolm, Malcolm needed to know the truth. But how?

  Malcolm was too kind to hurl insults at Stuart and call him names. That didn’t mean he’d ever accept Stuart’s kink, however. Or that he’d feel comfortable being involved. Or even want to be with Stuart at all once he learned the truth.

  What if knowing changed the way Malcolm thought of him? What if—like so many guys before—Stuart’s kink repulsed him? There was no coming back from that. If Malcolm couldn’t accept Stuart’s secret, there was no way to un-ring that bell. It might drive Malcolm away from Stuart in fear and disgust.

  Hands shaking, Stuart twisted the underwear to wring the water out and draped them over the shower curtain rod to dry. He dressed in his usual sleepwear of shorts and a tank, then crawled back in his bed, exhaustion from a long, tiring day creeping over him. The mental turmoil after his orgasm hadn’t helped, either. This was why he so rarely dressed in lingerie and got himself off—afterward, loneliness overcame him. Even more so when he was dating someone and the guilt over keeping secrets weighed heavy on him.

  Malcolm was very different from most of the men Stuart had dated but the depth of Stuart’s feelings for Malcolm gave the worry extra gravity.

  Stuart reached to turn out the light and noticed his phone had a new text message notification from Malcolm.

  I’m heading to bed soon. Hope you had a good night.

  Stuart checked the time. It had arrived twenty minutes ago. Malcolm might already be asleep, but he’d see the reply in the morning.

  Long, crazy day. Anything was going to be downhill after this morning. Sleep well.

  To his surprise, Malcolm answered. It was a nice way to fall asleep last night for me too.

  Stuart smiled. I agree. Maybe we should do that again.

  Yes please.

  They texted back and forth for a few more minutes until Stuart’s eyelids grew heavy and he said goodnight. Drifting off, his thoughts stayed with Malcolm. While Stuart didn’t believe in God anymore, he said a little prayer out into the dark that, somehow, Malcolm would understand and accept him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Morning, Carter.”

  “Good morning.” Carter glanced up to where Malcolm stood in his office door and smiled. “There are baked goods in the kitchen—make sure you grab something if you’re hungry.”

  “All set.” Malcolm held up a cinnamon scone and grinned. He’d run out of oatmeal and yogurt a few days before and had wanted to cheer when he’d spotted a bakery box and platter of cheese this morning. “Still a good time to meet?”

  “Yep, c’mon in.” Carter gestured to the guest chairs on the other side of his desk. “Tara should be here in a minute.”

  “Cool.” Malcom stepped into the tiny space and took the chair farthest from the door, nerves fluttering in his chest. Carter hadn’t broached the topic of Stuart and The Hug yet, but Malcolm didn’t know how to start, especially with only minutes to spare before they had company. “Thanks for this,” he said instead and nodded at the pastry in his hand. “I can’t remember the last time I had a scone and it’s delicious.”

  “You’re welcome. I bought it from that bakery you like on 33rd and Madison.”

  “Born and Bread? Nice.” Malcolm regarded his snack with new pleasure. “They’re closer to my place than yours, though.”

  “Ri wanted to try somewhere new.” Carter shifted his attention to the tablet before hi
m on the desk. “We had my mother over for brunch on Sunday.”

  Malcolm stared at his friend, who didn’t look up. Carter’s relationship with his parents had been a royal mess for several years. He hadn’t said anything about his mother visiting while he and Malcolm had been working on Saturday, either.

  “You had Eleanor over? That sounds…momentous?”

  Carter hummed. “Certainly felt like it. We overcompensated with enough to feed an army instead of three. There’s quiche and pasta salad that I’ll put out later.”

  Watching Carter press his lips thin, Malcolm suspected he’d eaten little of that food. The stress Carter experienced even speaking to his parents played havoc with his anxiety disorder and the dark shadows under his eyes spoke to a sleepless night. Before Malcolm could ask for details, his manager, Tara, stepped into the room and shifted everyone’s gears into work mode.

  Malcolm sipped his coffee. He’d wait Carter out. Maybe talk about Eleanor Hamilton instead of what he and Stuart had gotten up to over the weekend. Though, come to think of it, Malcolm didn’t want to hold back talking about Stuart, to Carter or anyone. That had him hiding a smile behind his cup.

  “Congrats again on a great night, guys, and beating another fundraising goal,” Tara said as they wrapped up over an hour later. “I know nitpicking through paperwork is a pain in the ass, but you hired me to do exactly that.”

  “You’re fabulous at it.” Carter shared a long-distance high five with her. “And now we’re ready to shift into high gear for the fall fundraiser!” He grinned when Malcolm mimed choking him. “Until then, let’s enjoy a well-deserved break.”

  “You’re not getting much of a break, what with jumping right from the fundraiser into planning your own wedding,” Malcolm said after Tara had headed out. “I can’t believe it’s only a few weeks off now.”

  “I can’t believe it either.” Carter gave him a big smile. “Riley’s got everything covered. This wedding is small and casual, which is nice because we had our fill of giant wedding shenanigans the first time around. It’s funny—Ri’s taken way more pleasure than I ever expected in planning. All I’ve had to do is coordinate the wedding date with an officiant from the Southampton Court and vote on the choices Ri gives me.”