Used, Rare and Limited Editions 3: Wine and Dine

by Chris Owen

  Des, however, appeared before Dave could reach the second room of the bookstore, standing up from where he'd been shelving books in the science fiction section. “Dave. This is a pleasant surprise.” He smiled as he stepped forward, brushing his hands off.

  "Hey, you.” Dave slid his own palm along Des’ jaw, tilting his head just right for a kiss. The first kiss led to another and then a third before Dave let him go. “Hi."

  "Hi.” Des looked slightly dazed and very pleased. “Did you have a good day?"

  "I did. It just got better, too."

  "So did mine. Kiss me again."

  Dave grinned and kissed Des again, tasting his mouth this time and using his hands to tug Des closer; one hand on Des’ jaw, the other on his hip. If they could just not trip over the stack of books that Des had been dealing with, things would get fairly interesting in quick order. There was a very handy wall two steps away that Dave could imagine pushing Des up against.

  The bell over the door rang and Dave stepped back instantly, startled. He turned to the side, and looked at the books, feeling his face heat.

  "You're adorable when you blush,” Des whispered. He didn't even look at the door, just kissed Dave once more and then left him there, half hard and all the way embarrassed.

  "Jeeze,” Dave muttered, almost laughing as he waited for his blush to fade.

  Des talked to his customer, a middle aged man who had apparently been oblivious—Dave assumed he was blind, since he seemed not to have seen them at all—and Dave walked through toward the end of the shop, pausing for a moment by the classics.

  "Sorry about that,” Des said, suddenly there beside him. Des could walk very softly when he wanted to, Dave was learning. “I put the closed sign up."

  "I didn't think it was my place to do that,” Dave said with a grin. “Friday night."

  "Friday night? And it isn't, you're right. I'd possibly forgive you, though. Once."

  "I'll save it for a very special occasion. Friday. Are you available? I'd like very much to take you out. There's a play I think you might enjoy, but I'll have to pick you up here, about five-thirty. Which means I'll likely still be a bit damp from my shower, but my boss said I can leave a little early if you said yes.” Wow, he hadn't realized he was nervous, but by the time he'd gotten all the words out his heart was pounding in his chest like he'd never before asked a man for date. He felt like he was doing it for the first time—and the first time hadn't gone all that well, now that he thought about it. But then, he'd been fourteen and the guy he'd been trying to date was married, so the whole thing didn't bear thinking about at all. Ever.

  Des was smiling at him, the corners of his mouth lifting and his teeth flashing. “That would be delightful. Your boss called me, you know."

  "Did he?” Dave's eyes narrowed. “About me?"

  "Not at all. Your name didn't even come up, although I did surmise that you'd be free for Friday evening when Archer asked my permission to invite Wyatt out.” Des shrugged one shoulder and adjusted the knot of his tie, still smiling. “I did not, however, expect that you'd arrive here and sweep me off my feet."

  "I'm a surprising kind of guy.” Dave made a mental note to talk to Archie. They needed to coordinate a bit better. “So, I'll pick you up on Friday evening?"

  "Absolutely.” Des nodded and glanced around. “We're alone now, if you'd like to continue where we left off."

  Dave laughed and stepped forward. “When does Wyatt get home?"

  "He's upstairs grading papers. Or perhaps on the phone with Archer.” Des didn't seem to mind that Dave was backing him up against a shelf full of American literature. “But if this takes longer than half an hour or so I should tell him I'll be late to the supper table."

  "I have to meet Archie in about twenty minutes.” Dave undid Des’ belt with a swift motion or two. “So we'll make it fast this time, I think."

  Des kissed him hard. Dave thought that was likely agreement—or at the very least not a protest, so he set about making good on the suggestion.

  * * * *

  At ten P.M. on the Friday night, Dave and Des were in almost the same place they'd been when the date had been made. The play had been a modern interpretation of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, set in the playground of an unnamed urban city's cultural underground; discussing how the director had chosen to portray the Mad Hatter—or how the actor had gone completely barking mad in precisely the wrong way—had Dave scouring the shop's shelves for original source material.

  Des, armed with a bottle of wine, two glasses and a selection of fruit and cheese, didn't seem to mind that they were in his store instead of his home upstairs. “Try the next shelf over—you're locked into Modern British where you are, and you need children's classics."

  "Alice in Wonderland is not a children's book,” Dave mumbled, scanning the shelves. He peeled off his dinner jacket, still searching. “Children can enjoy it, and he might even have intended to share it with older children, but trust me. Not a kid's book."

  Des laughed softly and handed him a glass of wine. “I've heard that about Through the Looking Glass, I think."

  "Likely.” Dave sipped his wine and gave up—temporarily—on finding a copy of Alice. “But back on topic. Do you seriously buy that they could accurately depict the Mad Hatter as such a tragic figure? I mean, I totally get the Queen of Hearts as a dominatrix, and the White Rabbit as the spiritual advisor was plain as day. But the Mad Hatter should've been a pimp, not the poor little lost boy they tried to give us."

  "Alice was kind of interesting in her Lolita wear, though. Did you notice the erotic undertones of the Cheshire?"

  "That was disturbing."

  "And the collaring of the Dormouse? Very much my forte, in some ways."

  Dave acknowledged that with a smile and another swallow of wine. “Did Archie tell you where he was taking Wyatt?"

  "No. I wasn't sure if I should ask, to be honest. This is a new situation."

  "For all of us.” Dave reached for the tray on top of a stack of books and took a grape. “Archie was really nervous. He doesn't want to bore Wyatt."

  Des laughed, the sound a mix of amusement and surprise. “I think, in that case, Archer is going to be pleasantly surprised. Wyatt is incredibly attracted to him; I had to take some rather extreme measures last night for either of us to get any sleep; Wyatt was a little worked up. He has a very powerful imagination."

  Dave felt his eyebrows go up. “I see,” he said, not seeing anything at all other than the suggestion that Archie really had been worrying for nothing. “Extreme measures?"

  "Do you really want to know?” Des shook his head before Dave could reply. “I chained him to the bed and made him tell me what he was thinking about. His fantasies about Archer are inspiring, really.” He smile grew wicked. “We had an athletic evening, which I'm sure helped with the getting to sleep."

  "I thought you weren't into bondage?” Dave asked the question before he could stop himself.

  "I'm not; the chain is attached to the foot of the bed and then to a collar for when I make him sleep on the floor.” Des said it casually as he lifted his wine glass. “Oh, that part was a bit too much information, wasn't it?"

  "Um.” Dave blinked, unable to keep himself from imagining the scene. “Seriously? You do that? Like, every night?"

  "God, no.” Des looked honestly shocked. “I adore sharing the bed. Wyatt is only chained for special occasions.” He reached out and wrapped his hand around Dave's tie, tugging gently. “I don't mind bondage games, but they're never really my first choice; it just doesn't occur to me. Apparently Wyatt likes the idea of playing with Archie and his gear."

  "Well.” Dave allowed Des to tug him forward and grinned down at him. “Archie will be having a good night, then."

  "Are you?” Des held the tie, but didn't pull any more.

  "I am.” Dave reached past him and set the wine glass down carefully. “I saw a play and discussed its faults at length with someone who had an opinion. There'
s wine, books, I made a rough sketch of glass bookcases to build you, there's talk of some interesting sex going on, and you have my tie in your hand. I count it as a success. Do you?"

  Des reached past Dave's shoulder and plucked a book off the shelf. “I will, once we move from here to somewhere less traveled by the general public. I like your suit and would hate to see the damage that a shop floor will have on it."

  "You're very sure of yourself.” Dave pulled Des to him by the hips and bent his head low to whisper in Des’ ear. “I like that. A lot."

  "It doesn't make you wonder about my motives any longer?” Des nuzzled him back, the barest hint of stubble rubbing on Dave's chin. “Or your own, maybe?"

  Dave couldn't help smiling. “I know my motives. I know yours.” His hands slipped lower, his palms rubbing over the fine fabric of Des’ trousers. “Archie wondered if he wouldn't be enough for Wyatt, but I wondered if you'd become frustrated—with yourself, not me. Having to keep yourself in check, learning to let someone else make choices. It concerned me.” Heat radiated off Des’ body, close enough that Dave could feel the difference between the warmth of Des’ chest and that of his groin.

  "Does it?” Des sounded mildly curious, his mouth moving on Dave's jaw and his hand sliding up the inside of Dave's thigh to cup his balls.

  "Not any longer. I realized something.” Dave obligingly leaned back just enough to brace himself on the shelf. His legs spread, and Des moved with him, straddling Dave's thigh and massaging Dave's erection.

  "What's that?” Des looked down, apparently enjoying the view of his hand on Dave's cock, pale, slim fingers splayed over the dark material.

  "You like a challenge, and challenging yourself is even better than challenging someone else."

  "Oh, very good.” Des’ fingers curled slightly and he pushed, giving Dave a tiny bit of friction. “But that still makes what I have with you about me and not us. Shall I go on?"

  "Oh, please do.” Dave licked his lips before he could stop himself. The small of his back was tingling and his balls felt tight and hard. The shop had seen some action already that week—they'd traded hand jobs there; if he kept it together, maybe there would something wetter and more intense. “Go on."

  Des smiled and played with Dave's cock a moment longer before getting to work on Dave's belt. “I do like a challenge, of course. I'm also intensely curious. I'm curious about life, the world, what other people think and do.” His fingers slid up to stroke over Dave's belly. “I'm curious and like to learn."

  "Yeah?” Dave would have rolled his eyes at himself for being so very eloquent but he was busy trying not to grab Des’ hand to get him moving south. That would be rude.

  "Yes.” Des’ hands re-arranged fabric, his fingers pushing, tugging, folding, and tucking until Dave's erection was bared to the air around them and then held tightly in Des’ hand. “I'm curious about you and what you think and do. What you read, what you want to do with your time next summer, how you vote. If you vote. What you wanted to be when you were a child, how you met Archer and if you're ever going to tell him that you love him. If you think about making love to me, if it turns you on to tell Archer about being with me."

  Dave nodded and his cock throbbed in Des’ hand. “It does. I do. We do.” He closed his eyes. “Oh, God."

  Des stroked him like it was a reward. “I want to learn you. Not just how to make you moan, what happens when I touch you this way or that way, but how to comfort you if you need it. What impresses you, what makes you roll your eyes in disdain rather than amusement. I'm intensely curious about you, Dave Allen, and right now the most important thing in my life is learning how you taste."

  "I'm an open book.” Dave was pleased that he'd managed an entire sentence. Words failed him again, however, when Des slid to his knees and took Dave's cock into his mouth.

  Des lived his life with a certain intensity that Dave couldn't have failed to see. His control was remarkable, his manners impeccable and the way he held himself was so deeply refined that it was shocking to look down and see him on his knees, on the same floor he'd already deemed too dirty to have Dave bend down for.

  Dave made a rough noise and thrust into Des’ mouth, not able to help himself. The wet slip of Des’ tongue was going to drive him crazy if he didn't get a little more suction to go with it. “Des."

  "Hold onto the shelves.” Des looked up at him. “And don't come yet."

  "That's easy for you to say.” Dave's chest hurt from trying not to pant, so he let himself breathe how he had to, not as he wanted to. “I thought the floor was dirty?"

  "It is. But I won't be down here long.” He licked Dave from one side of his dick to the other, and then rocked back on his heels. From the inside pocket of his jacket he pulled a condom and lube.

  "When you said you'd bring down wine and cheese..."

  "I'm very sure of myself."

  Dave had no complaints. None. He had very little thought at all, really, other than a series of happy images and impressions as sparks skittered around inside his body. Des licked and sucked and soon Dave's panting became gasps. Des gave head with just as much focus as he did everything else in his life, and when his lips wrapped tightly around the crown of Dave's cock and his tongue scrubbed at the tip, Dave broke. “Des. Please!"

  Quickly, perhaps even desperately if Dave was the sort to flatter himself, Des rose up and kissed him hard. Then Dave was being turned around, not as smoothly as he thought happened in movies, and his legs were being nudged apart. He could hear Des undressing enough to free himself, and he could smell books and paper and ink along with the wine.

  "Steady,” Des whispered when wet fingers breached Dave's body. “Don't fall."

  Dave wasn't going to fall. He was floating, really, the sensations stacking, his whole body tuned to where he was, who he was with, and the act of having sex with Desmond Chase in the Modern British literature section of the store.

  "You're giggling.” Des sounded like he wasn't sure if he was to be amused or annoyed.

  "I was just thinking it's a good thing we're not in romance or fantasy. This area really suits us.” Dave grinned when Des laughed, and then sucked in a breath when Des’ fingers were replaced by the blunt head of his cock.

  "Make sure you don't turn your head and wind up looking at children's classics,” Des cautioned. “Some things are just too perverse for me."

  "I'll keep that in mind.” It was a lie—he couldn't keep anything in mind. Des absolutely knew how to drive; on the bed, standing up, it didn't seem to matter. He wasn't as tall as Dave, but that didn't have any effect, either. A hand on Dave's back, a nudge of one knee, a gentle pet to move Dave slightly to the side and Dave was staring sightlessly dead ahead.

  "So gorgeous.” Des was whispering in Dave's ear as he moved, thrusting in and out with an almost lazy pace. A long glide in and an achingly long coast out. Pause. Thrust in again, going deep, going slow, going right to the core of Dave's body. “You're so beautiful. Your mind entrances me. Your body captivates me."

  Dave moaned. He felt light headed, dizzy and slick. Des was moving only slightly faster, but more to the point, he was going deeper, pressing hard and circling his hips, grinding them together.

  "I like the way you speak,” Des said, his cock filling Dave completely, his hand spread over Dave's belly. “I love the way you laugh. I want to hear you sing."

  A laugh choked Dave for a moment. “No, you really don't."

  "Oh, but I do. I want to know all of you.” Des pet Dave's belly and then dropped his hand lower to curl around Dave's erection. “All of you,” he repeated as he stroked.

  Dave didn't sing—planned never to sing—but he cried out and tightened up and Des gasped. That was it, right there, and Dave could feel it building; what he wanted, what Des wanted, what they were moving toward. Fast and faster, wildly, unable to control himself and relying entirely on Des to take care of that for him, Dave moved back into each thrust and rode the sea until it peaked.

&nbs
p; Des slammed into him so hard they were moved forward, Des’ palm grazing the tip of Dave's cock; when Dave started to come, he had a sudden thought of where he was, what was going to happen to the books, oh, such a bad, bad idea, but Des had it under control, his hand in just the right place, and Dave let it go.

  Let it all go and just came and shook and felt Des, hard inside him, moving and moaning and pushing deep and then throbbing with him.

  Messy, sticky, panting, Dave reached for his wine and drank. Des was still in him, laughing against his back as his cock twitched and jerked inside Dave.

  "I think we need a towel,” Dave said, grinning at the books in front of him.

  "There's napkins with the fruit.” Des sounded just as amused. “Don't move; I'll take care of it.” He shifted, chuckling as he wiped his hand and took care of the condom. “More wine?"

  Dave considered, feeling loose and easy in his skin. “Maybe half a glass,” he said, turning around and taking the offered napkins. “I have to drive home."

  "Come upstairs,” Des invited him, putting his clothes to rights. “See the room, now that we're using your shelves."

  Nodding, unable to stop smiling and deciding that was just fine, Dave cleaned himself up and followed Des up the stairs, taking his half glass of wine with him.

  "Oh, this is great.” Dave walked into the room and then around the floor unit he'd built, one hand on the wood. “It looks different with books in it."

  "That's what Wyatt said.” Des laughed. “I think he was just relieved to have me out of his office and into my own space again."

  Dave touched the cover of the nearest book, laid open on the flat top of the floor unit. “Your research?"

  "Just a study. Wyatt is the PhD; I'm merely a lover of books. I was comparing the typeface of this edition and one from the shop to see if there was any truth to what a client had told me. He said that people were willing to pay so much for earlier editions not because they're rare and made of better paper, but because they're easier to read, that they're more visually appealing."