The Spencer Cohen Book Two

by N. R. Walker

  And then my sleep addled brain caught up…

  Andrew was naked in the next room, wet and soapy…

  I got out of bed, and seeing he’d left the door ajar, I knocked before cautiously walking in. “Any objections to company?”

  He had a headful of shampoo, but that’s not where my eyes were drawn. His dick was full and hanging heavily. I swallowed hard, and my cock filled at the sight of him. He laughed at me. “No objections at all. But I have to leave in twenty minutes. I already missed the gym.”

  I pulled my underpants off, freeing my eager and already-leaking erection. “Really?”

  “Yes, I woke up in time, but there was a hot guy in my bed with his arms around me and his beard pressed against the back of my ear.”

  I stepped into the shower, and he never took his eyes from mine. His self-control really was rather impressive. I scratched my beard. “You like it?”

  “I love it,” he whispered.

  I stood in front of him. Steam filled the space between us, and I remembered what he said. “Twenty minutes, huh?”

  He could either read minds or there was something in my tone because he smiled. “Before I have to leave. Not twenty minutes shower time.”

  I dropped to my knees. “I won’t be long.”

  He groaned even before I’d taken him into my mouth. His fingers gripped my hair and he guided me to how he liked it. Which was deep and thoroughly, apparently. I never really had him pegged as the skull-fucking type, but he was right into it, and in just a few minutes, he came down my throat. He pulled out of my mouth and yanked my head back by my hair, only to plant his mouth on mine. Then he lifted me to my feet and went to his knees where he returned the favour. I’d like to think I lasted longer than him, but I doubt I did. He left me slumped against the tiles, happily seeing stars in the steam, and incapable of coherent thought.

  Then he shut the water off and threw a towel at me with a laugh. “You alive in there?”

  “Mmm, barely.” I dried myself off and put the towel over my head, drying my hair in a sawing motion, leaving it sticking up in every direction.

  Andrew was at the basin, towel around his waist, brushing his teeth, and he chuckled at me. “That’s a good look,” he mumbled around his toothbrush.

  I swung my towel over my shoulder, leaving myself naked beside him, and stole his hair comb from the counter. I combed my hair flat against my head, parted at the side, in a very not-like-me hairdo. When Andrew finished brushing his teeth and saw it, he burst out laughing. “Mm-mm,” he hummed disapprovingly. Then he ran his fingers through my hair and took the comb, styling it to how he liked it apparently.

  When I checked the mirror, he’d done it exactly how I normally wore it. It was shaved on the sides, long on top, and he’d made a quiff. Without a word, he started to foam his face with shaving cream, and I watched, transfixed, as he shaved. Stroke by meticulous stroke, he rid his face of white foam and scruff, carefully lifting and turning his face for the best angles.

  I was surprised at how much I liked to watch him do this.

  I surveyed my beard in the mirror. “Mmm, maybe I should shave.”

  Andrew rinsed off his face and patted it dry with the towel off my shoulder. He shook his head. “Don’t change a thing.”

  “You like my beard, don’t you?”

  He smiled, almost shyly. “I do. I never thought about guys with beards before I met you, but I do, yes.”

  I surveyed myself in the mirror again. “I do need to trim it though.”

  “Trim is fine; don’t shave it.”

  I smiled at his tone. “Sounds like an order.”

  When I turned around, he was staring at my naked arse. When he realised I’d caught him ogling, he shrugged unapologetically. “I could get used to this view every morning.”

  I nodded toward the shower. “I could get used to bathroom blowjobs every morning.”

  He laughed as he walked out into his walk-through robe. “Those too.”

  “Hey, can I borrow some toothpaste?” I asked.

  “Sure, but I certainly don’t want it back.” He stopped, just short of removing the towel from his waist. He frowned. “I still don’t have a spare toothbrush. I thought I did, but I don’t.”

  “I thought we decided it was too soon for toothbrushes anyway,” I said, half joking, half not. I held up my finger. “This’ll do till I get home.” I squirted some toothpaste onto my index finger and crudely brushed over my teeth with it. I rinsed and spat into the sink. “Better than furry teeth.”

  “True,” Andrew said. He’d already donned some undies, but I had the immense pleasure of watching him pull on blue trousers and a white business shirt. As he was buttoning the shirt, he smiled at me. “You just gonna watch?”

  “Yep.”

  “Not gonna get dressed?”

  I was still naked. “Only if I have to.”

  “I’m not opposed—” He raked his eyes up and down my body. “—at all. But the general public might not appreciate the view.”

  I had no clean clothes to wear, so with a shrug, I raided his wardrobe. I found some older black trousers, of which I rolled the cuffs up so they looked like they fit me. “You’ll have to think of me going commando all day,” I told him. He groaned, and I smiled as I plucked a pink T-shirt from the bottom of his pile of neatly folded shirts.

  “I’ve never worn that shirt,” he said. “My mom bought it for me last year.” He looked me up and down. “How do you make those clothes look so good? I would never have worn them together.”

  I pulled one of his grey knitted vests from a hanger and handed it to him. “With these pants?” He looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Yep.”

  He mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out but pulled the vest over his head anyway. I nodded approvingly and turned him around so he could see himself in his mirror. “Oh, that’s not bad.”

  “Not bad? That’s fucking hot.” I put one hand around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. I ran my other hand over his arse and pulled him against me, lifting his leg around my hip, and plunged my tongue into his mouth.

  When I was done kissing him, he stood there, stunned, somewhat violated and very kiss-drunk. He smiled lazily. “Wow.”

  I laughed at him. “Now you can think about that all day too.”

  He slowly adjusted himself. “Thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome.” I collected my pile of clothes from his bedroom floor. “Come on, or you’ll be late for work.”

  He looked at the rumpled bed, then back to me and licked his lips. “I’m considering calling in sick.”

  I laughed at him. “No you’re not. I won’t be held accountable for your lack of productivity.”

  He walked past me to the door. “If we stayed here, we could be very productive.”

  Now it was me who had to adjust himself, which thankfully he didn’t see. I’m pretty sure if he did, we wouldn’t be leaving his house any time soon. When I got down the stairs behind him, he was sitting on the sofa pulling on his socks and shoes, and when he was done, he picked up the paper bag he’d thrown there last night.

  He slid the books out I’d bought him and sighed. “Thank you again, for buying me these. Well,” he amended, “the cooking one not so much, but this one… this one I love.” He stared at the Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? book I’d picked for him. He looked up at me then. “And thank you for not going home last night, for not giving up on me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He stood up and walked over to stand right in front of me. He looked me in the eye and said, “I promise I’ll talk to you. I won’t shut you out.”

  It was different to hear your insecurities in the light of day. I didn’t know why, but talking of such things in darkened rooms seemed so much easier. I was a little embarrassed when he brought it up now. I guessed that was the irony of my request for open communication. “Thanks.”

  “I really wish I didn’t have to go to
work today,” he whispered.

  “Me too,” I answered honestly. “But I told Emilio I’d help him out this morning, and Lola’s taking me to some college in a last ditch effort to find this Yanni guy this arvo.”

  He squinted at me. “What’s an arvo?”

  “Afternoon. This arvo is Australian for this afternoon.”

  “Oh.”

  “But it’s more one word, like thisarvo.”

  He laughed and grabbed his keys and wallet. He opened the front door. “Tell me, do Australians really say crikey?”

  I walked past him. “No. As a general rule. Not ever.”

  We walked to his car. “What about g’day mate instead of hello?”

  “All the time. But usually just g’day or mate. We might say g’day, how’re ya goin’? or hey mate. Generally not g’day mate together. Sometimes but not always, unless you’re taking the piss.”

  “So you need to have a lobotomy to be Australian?”

  I stared at him over the roof of his car. “I am truly offended.”

  He laughed. “No you’re not.”

  He climbed into the driver’s seat, and I got into the passenger’s side. “I am offended, I’ll have you know. Just as I’m offended that you didn’t serve me green tea this morning.”

  He drove the car out onto the street but eyed me cautiously. “I could buy some.”

  I sniffed. “And breakfast? Where was that?”

  “Um, well it was late, and I already missed the gym.”

  “I mean, the protein shake I had in your shower was good and all, but not enough to keep me going.”

  He barked out a laugh, and his cheeks tinted pink. “Oh my God, Spencer.”

  “Does that embarrass you?”

  He glared at me as he drove and tried to not smile but failed. “A little, yes.”

  “And now you’re thinking about what we did in the shower, aren’t you?”

  “I wasn’t,” he said. He shifted in his seat. “But now I am.”

  “And now you’re thinking about me being commando, aren’t you?”

  He shot me a glare but looked back to the road and swallowed hard. “No.”

  “You totally are.”

  He squirmed in his seat. “I hate you.”

  I grinned at him. “No you don’t.” I took his free hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re really not.”

  “No, I’m not really.” We were both smiling, and I kept hold of his hand on my thigh. “But I promise to talk about something else for the remainder of the drive.”

  “I should have made you catch the bus.” He squeezed my hand. “But perhaps a change of topic in conversation would be a good idea.”

  I sighed. “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Well, I was going to go see my boyfriend, but he’s being a bit of a jerk. I’m sure he wants me to go to work with a semi.”

  I cracked up laughing. “Still thinking about me being commando?”

  He groaned. “I hate you.”

  “No you don’t.”

  He laughed. “No, I don’t. But I was thinking I’ll probably go to the gym tonight. Can we do something tomorrow night?”

  “For sure. Oh, I’m buying dinner for everyone tomorrow night as a thanks for helping me out when this hot guy I really liked was gonna do a runner.” I shook my head. “God, was that only a week ago?”

  He squeezed my hand. “I know. Pretty hard to believe, huh? And for the record, I was never gonna do a runner.”

  I kissed his knuckles again before putting his hand back on my thigh. “But then this weekend you’re all mine, so don’t go making any plans.”

  His smile was smug. “I’m all yours, am I?”

  I could see Emilio’s shop up ahead so I knew I didn’t have much time. “Yes you are. We said we’d make it to this weekend before we take turns fucking each other’s brains out, remember?”

  Andrew’s eyes widened and he blushed. “Right.”

  “I thought you could fuck me all day Saturday, then on Sunday it’s my turn to have you.”

  His breath was all pitchy, and he struggled to change lanes. Without saying a word, he stopped in front of Emilio’s, and I pushed his hand on my thickening dick and whispered, “Just thinking about it…” I groaned. “I’m gonna have to go upstairs and take care of this.”

  He made a whining noise in the back of his throat and squirmed. He pulled back his hand. “I hate you.”

  I laughed as I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “No you don’t.” I got out of the car and watched him drive off and was still chuckling as I walked into the tattoo shop.

  “Hey, you’re looking far too happy for this time of day, my friend,” Emilio said.

  “Gimme ten minutes to drop these dirty clothes off,” I told him, holding up my bundle of yesterday’s clothes. “Then I’ll do a breakfast run. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds great,” he said.

  I went through the back of the shop and up to my flat above it. It wasn’t just to drop off laundry. I wasn’t kidding when I told Andrew I’d have to take care of myself, and it took all of two minutes to bring myself to climax despite already coming once that morning. Just thinking about sex with him did me in. When I was cleaned up and clear-headed, I sent Andrew a text. Congratulations, you just starred in my quickest jerk off session ever.

  His reply came through when I was on my way to get breakfast. I read your text and almost crashed the car.

  I dialled his number. “Are you okay?”

  He laughed. “Yes, I’m fine. But I still hate you.”

  I grinned into the phone. “No you don’t.”

  His voice was much softer when he replied. “No, I really don’t.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Look at you, all grinning away to yourself,” Lola said with a smile. “I take it you and Andrew…?” She trailed off suggestively and waggled her eyebrows.

  I looked up from the delivery orders I was marking off against the invoices. “Andrew and I had our first fight.”

  She stopped, and her smile turned to a look of confusion. “What?”

  “Well, I guess it was a fight. It was kind of… I’m not sure, to be honest.”

  “But you made up?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I answered, slowly nodding my head. “Relationships are weird.”

  “What was it about?”

  I launched into full disclosure of how the whole night went, from seeing Lance at the bookstore up to me getting out of the cab and refusing to let Andrew walk away.

  Gabe nodded sympathetically. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve had to go mow down Lola because she’s pissed at me and won’t talk about it.”

  “Too pissed off to talk,” she amended, not so gently.

  “It’s what relationships are,” Gabe said. “Weird, hard, and a lot of work.”

  “You make it sound like a job,” she replied. “Is it not worth it?”

  Gabe smiled at her and said, “Lola, my sweetest love, I would endure the wrath of eternal hell in exchange for just one day with you.”

  She grinned at him, then looked at me. “See? That is what we like to call a correct answer.”

  She gave Gabe a kiss on the cheek and shoved a make-up kit into my hands. “You ready?”

  “Yep.” Then I amended, “I am ready for you to drive me to find this Yanni guy. I am not ready to die in a car called Cindy Crawford.”

  Lola glared at me. “I hear the buses are running on time.”

  I laughed and headed for the door. “Andrew said something similar this morning.”

  * * * *

  Pol’s Academy of Acting and Film was small, and if the first college looked like a university, this looked more like a government department office or even a health clinic. It was older, clearly had less-to-no funding, or could have possibly been a volunteer-run class. Even wearing Andrew’s old trousers and a simple T-shirt, I was overdressed. If Yanni had left the first college for this one, w
hatever the reason, it couldn’t have been good.

  The size and administration held one thing in my favour: trying to find someone shouldn’t be hard.

  After a quick look around, I found a class roster on the corkboard in the main admin area. No names of students of course, but teachers and the names of classes and the times they were run. I hung around and waited as students came in and out, and class after class finished, but I didn’t see anyone that resembled him. When I’d been there for a few hours, one of the students—a young guy of about eighteen with long hair and holes in his sneakers—took pity on me. “You look lost,” he said.

  I gave him my best friendly smile. “I’m actually waiting for someone. I’m not even sure if I’m in the right place.”

  He looked around. “Well, this is Pol’s, and all there is to it. It’s not like you can get lost here.”

  I laughed and acted a bit nervous. “Do you know a Yanni Tomaras?”

  The guy looked at me for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

  I sat back and sighed, giving my best impression of someone who was happy to sit and wait. “Well, at least I’m in the right place.”

  Then the guy called out to someone else. “Hey Gary? Seen Yanni today?”

  The guy called Gary replied, “Nah, not yet. He’s in at four for improvs, I think.”

  I checked my watch. It was half past two. “Okay, sweet,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing,” the first guy said as he walked out with his group of friends, seemingly not giving me another thought as they walked out discussing the class they’d just finished.

  So I waited.

  And sure enough, at five to four a guy matching Yanni’s description came in. It was him. It had to be. Tall, olive skin, and green eyes, good looking, despite the sadness in his features. I was just about to stand and approach him when some girl called his name. Yanni. He turned, and they made small talk as they walked into a classroom.

  So I’d found him. It hadn’t strictly been difficult, and I wondered what the deal was with Lance.

  Was he really that clueless? Or did he just want someone to do his dirty work for him? Or did it have to be completely off the grid because he’d had restraining orders put out against him? I really had no clue.