The Backup Boyfriend

by River Jaymes

  Home.

  Dylan’s lips quirked. “I got behind today, so I skipped changing the oil on the Ducati as planned.” No need to share he’d rescheduled the task, choosing to come home early because he knew Alec would already be here.

  “Does she really need it?” Alec asked.

  “Nothing but the best for my babies.”

  Alec smiled, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. “So I’ve gathered. What’s on your agenda for tonight?”

  “You.”

  Alec laughed, and a familiar light lit his gaze.

  “Good,” Alec said. “I want to discuss something with you.”

  The words plowed into Dylan like a speeding bus.

  Shit. He recognized that look on Alec’s face, and it had nothing to do with sex. Dylan had seen the same expression on Alec several times since the football game. Dylan couldn’t be sure, but he had a feeling the things Alec wanted to talk about involved the future.

  His chest grew tight, and Dylan cleared his throat, forcing a light tone. “You want to discuss switching to a new brand of lube?”

  “No.” Alec nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. “I’m hoping you can pry your mind out of the gutter for five minutes because there’s something I want to ask you.”

  Fuck. He hated being right.

  Needing time to regroup, Dylan said, “We can talk over dinner. I’ll just snag a beer and go wash up before we eat.” He pulled open the refrigerator door and grabbed a bottle, escaping into the garage.

  “I’ll finish the salad,” Alec called after him.

  Heart hammering at a stupid rate, Dylan stood and stared blankly at his wall of tools, wondering how he’d gotten himself into this predicament. Questions clogged his thoughts and left him unsure what to do next.

  As far as Dylan could figure, Alec had wanted to have this discussion for several days. Dylan, being the friggin’ coward he was, had never encouraged Alec to share his thoughts. Only one possibility made sense. The man was going to ask him to move in, for them to live together like a couple.

  Jesus.

  Dylan didn’t know which to do first, laugh at the absurdity of his situation, panic, or give the idea serious consideration. The thought of laying claim to half of Alec’s bed held a definite appeal, and for more than just the obvious advantages.

  Dylan took an insanely embarrassing amount of pleasure in sleeping next to Alec. In fact, Dylan had come to hate waking alone. He craved the heat and loved the feel of skin on skin. Wrapping himself around Alec, or vice versa, came as naturally as breathing.

  But he sure as hell didn’t want to be someone’s significant other.

  He pushed the conflicting feelings aside and headed for his Indian Blackhawk parked next to the workbench, which had tools spread out across the top. He picked up an Allen wrench and absently rubbed his thumb along the metal tool, his head swirling.

  “Thirty more minutes till dinner,” Alec said as he entered the garage. “Maybe we should talk now.”

  Dylan tensed, still unprepared for the possible discussion.

  The look returned to Alec’s face, and he stepped closer. “Dylan—”

  “My old air compressor finally died today.” Heart wedged in his throat, Dylan turned and knelt at the motorcycle, running his finger along the chain as if testing the tension. He should have bolted for home, like ten minutes ago. “I had to buy a new one.”

  There was a two-second pause before Alec responded. “From what you’ve said, the event was well overdue.” He sounded hesitant now, almost guarded.

  Dylan fought to remain calm, at least on the outside.

  “Yep,” Dylan said. “It got to the point where fixing the sucker cost more than purchasing a new one.”

  “Dylan,” Alec said. “I—”

  “I meant to ask you earlier. How’s Tyler?”

  Dylan kept his eyes on the bike. Clearly he’d gone off the deep end if he was asking about the ex to dodge the conversation. Dylan suppressed the scoff threatening to escape. Next he’d be calling and inviting Tyler over to share their meal, just to delay the inevitable.

  “He’s fine,” Alec said. “Noah’s still giving him shit. And he’s bummed Logan can’t make it to awards ceremony.” He cleared his throat. “Which reminds me, there’s something I want to ask—”

  Alec’s cellular rang, and Dylan gripped the chain and closed his eyes, grateful for the delay, his mind scrambling. How would he avoid the discussion without pushing Alec away? Dylan glanced at Alec from the corner of his eye as Alec answered with a hello.

  Immediately Alec’s expression fell. “Hi, Mom.” He turned, his profile facing Dylan as he went on. “I told you, that’s not necessary.”

  Dylan could just make out a female voice droning over the phone, and he pretended he wasn’t straining to hear the words. Now he was sorry they’d been interrupted because, while he might be a complete chicken shit about discussions involving the future, he hated seeing Alec upset.

  Alec’s lips grew tight. “I know, it’s just—”

  The words died as his mother’s voice continued, and Alec stepped away from the table—away from Dylan—and began to pace. Dylan watched Alec walk back and forth. A few more minutes passed as the telephone conversation continued, and the tension in Alec’s shoulders never eased. Unfortunately, Alec’s mumbled one-word answers gave no clue as to the topic.

  Alec finally said goodbye and slipped his phone into the pocket of his khakis, heading back to Dylan. “My mother.”

  “Yeah,” Dylan said with a small smile, hoping to cheer Alec up. “The ‘hi, Mom’ was kind of a giveaway.”

  Alec didn’t go on, and Dylan gnawed on his lip. Should he let the moment pass? Employ an evasive maneuver and bolt for home, as planned? Or should he ask Alec about the phone conversation? In the end, Dylan couldn’t ignore the dejected look on Alec’s face, the eyes bleeding vulnerability.

  Not when the expression made Dylan’s chest ache.

  “What’s up?” Dylan asked.

  Alec met his gaze. “My parents are still planning on coming to the awards ceremony.”

  “Well, hey, that’s good, right?”

  Alec rubbed his forehead with both hands as if to scrub away his worries. He seemed unsure of his answer.

  “Or not,” Dylan went on softly.

  Tyler knew why having the parents attend the reception was a problem, but not Dylan. The ex knew, and Dylan didn’t have a fucking clue. The realization annoyed the hell out of him. And the fault clearly belonged to Dylan.

  Alec dropped his hands to his side. “I purchased a new mirror for my bike. I’ll go get it from my car.”

  He disappeared out the side door leading to the driveway, and Dylan stared after him. He could spot the evasive maneuver from a mile away, especially since his personal superpower was Avoidance. Dylan was still debating what to do about Alec when he returned to the garage, a rearview mirror in his hand.

  “You want some help?” Dylan asked.

  “No,” Alec said. “I can handle this.”

  From his squatting position in front of his motorcycle, Dylan watched Alec push his Harley closer to Dylan and the workbench. And while he wasn’t the handiest person with tools, he’d definitely gotten better with a little instruction. He could do simple things now and replacing the mirror was definitely one of them.

  Alec’s accomplishment left Dylan feeling so friggin’ satisfied it was ridiculous, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin the mood with a heavy discussion.

  At the thought, Dylan’s throat grew tight enough to choke him.

  But ignoring Alec’s mood hardly seemed fair. Talking about Rick the day of his birthday had gone a long way toward keeping Dylan from losing his mind. Fucking the life out of Alec had helped as well. Alec deserved some sort of outlet too, and words appeared to be his tool of choice.

  “The award is a big deal,” Dylan said.

  “I know.”

  When Alec didn’t go on, Dylan prompted him a
gain. “You should be proud.”

  “I am.”

  Alec’s response was followed by a minute of silence.

  With a sigh, Dylan rested his arm on his knee. “Then why don’t you want your family here?”

  Alec unscrewed the clamp that held the cracked mirror with more attention than the process required. “My mother adored—adores—Tyler.” His hand stilled as he met Dylan’s gaze. “And she’s…uh…having a hard time letting go.”

  “She’ll have to figure out how on her own. You can’t do it for her.”

  Alec’s hand paused briefly before going on with his task, his breath escaping in a rush. “I wish the issue was that simple.”

  Clamp now loose, Alec removed the old mirror. Dylan waited patiently for Alec to continue as he screwed the new one in place. Just when Dylan thought Alec had decided the discussion was over, the man went on.

  Alec checked the stability of the mirror. “She attended just about every protest in three counties, hoping to end Proposition 8. Worked harder than anyone I know to gain me and Tyler the right to marry.” He stared at the handlebar, and then, with a small huff, he tossed the screwdriver back onto the utility table. “And now, of course, that’s not going to happen.”

  “Dude, she’ll adjust.”

  “I owe her a lot.”

  “You don’t owe her your personal life.”

  Alec briefly pressed his eyes closed. “Being a teenager sucks. Being a gay teen makes the phase a million times worse.” Hands on his waist, Alec scanned his motorcycle as if looking for something else to fix. “I was in a dark place when I came out to my parents.”

  The statement settled in Dylan’s gut, leaving him sick at the thought of a depressed Alec. Dylan stood and settled his hip against the workbench, searching for the right thing to say. As usual, words failed him.

  “My mom’s not your typical mother,” Alec went on with a wry smile. “She finds showing affection…difficult. But every afternoon when I came home from school, she’d prop a new piece of literature or a pamphlet on my desk. Usually something about adolescent gays.” Blue eyes ticked back to Dylan’s, and Alec’s smile faded. “For a while, those handouts and her wordless support were the only things standing between me and succumbing to the self-loathing.”

  The desolate words triggered another painful twitch in Dylan’s chest.

  “I owe her more than I can ever repay,” Alec said.

  Dylan should be working out how to escape the upcoming talk about their “future.” He should be leaving, but anything that interfered with Alec’s smile and the resulting crinkles had to be shut down. And pronto. The longer he spent looking at Alec’s expression, the harder Dylan’s heart hurt, and the more he felt the need to fix the situation.

  Sadly, the only way he knew was to replace Alec’s defeated look with one of desire.

  Jesus, Dylan, you really are a pathetic bastard.

  Dylan stepped forward, placing his hand on Alec’s torso. The turbulent look in Alec’s gaze slowly eased as Dylan slid his palm down to cup Alec’s dick.

  “What are you doing?” Alec said.

  “If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right.”

  Dylan rubbed his thumb across the head, and the air around them grew heavy as Alec’s cock slowly grew stiff. Outside the stroke of Dylan’s fingers, neither of them moved.

  Alec’s gaze now dark, he said, “What did you have in mind?”

  “You’ll have to be patient and see.”

  This Dylan could handle. Sex was preferable to talking and a damn sight better than a miserable look on Alec’s face. Dylan would do anything, even leap off the nearest bridge to cheer Alec up. Of course, he preferred sex to jumping.

  “Unzip your pants,” Dylan murmured.

  Brow furrowed in question, Alec said, “Should we move to the bedroom?”

  “Nope.”

  Alec glanced doubtfully at the shelf with its assortment of petroleum products and hiked an eyebrow dryly. “But what about lube?”

  “We won’t be needing lube.”

  Alec’s eyebrows rose, and there was a short pause before he did as previously instructed, unsnapping his pants and lowering the zipper. “Far be it from me to—”

  Dylan sank to his knees, and Alec froze, a stunned look on his face. Clearly this wasn’t what he’d been expecting. A bit surprised himself, Dylan ignored the disturbing thoughts in his head and pulled Alec’s cock out through his briefs.

  So, yeah, in the beginning, a blowjob had been completely out of the question, the thought stirring ugly memories he’d worked damned hard to forget, thankyouverymuch. But this was for Alec. A gift, of sorts—though that seemed an incredibly lame use for the word. Regardless, another hand job felt…inadequate. How hard could giving head be? Dylan knew what felt good and what pulled a guy out of the moment.

  Alec pressed a hand to Dylan’s shoulder, concern on his face. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Jesus, man. I know that,” Dylan said. “I want to.”

  “Why not go with an activity we can both enjoy?”

  Because I need to do this.

  “Because I want to do something just for you,” Dylan said.

  Alec murmured a protest, which got cut short when Dylan buried his nose in the thick patch of hair, giving himself an internal pep talk as he stroked Alec’s dick. He’d given Alec plenty of hand jobs, but the sight of his cock so close, right in Dylan’s line of vision, was new. And while a small part of him expressed doubt, grumbling at the sensation of another man’s junk in his face for the first time in fifteen years, another part of Dylan was definitely turned on.

  Hunh. He hadn’t factored that reaction into the equation.

  But this was Alec, and everything with Alec turned out good.

  Intent on experimenting first, Dylan touched his tongue to the head. A sharp hiss broke from Alec’s mouth. Encouraged, Dylan closed his lips over the tip, marveling at how something so hard could feel so silky and soft. He tested the feel in his mouth, checking out the size before going farther. When he began to suck harder, Alec let out a whine and twisted his fingers in the shirt at Dylan’s shoulder. The grip grew tighter and tighter the longer Dylan’s mouth worked and the more of Alec he took in. After a minute Dylan glanced up.

  Lips parted, Alec panted, his breaths audible. Despite his obvious arousal, Alec cupped Dylan’s jaw. His thumb rasped gently across the stubble as if to smooth away any doubts. The gesture was a symbol of reassurance, letting Dylan know what he already knew, that he could trust Alec.

  Dylan wrapped his hand around the base and began to bob his head, taking as much of Alec into his mouth as possible. Time ticked by with little incident, and Dylan’s confidence grew. Saliva pooled on his tongue, slicking the way. He enjoyed the smooth, salty skin and the weight of Alec’s cock stretching his mouth, the action erotic as hell.

  But then the faint tang of precum hit, and he panicked, the memories surging forward. He couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t breathe.

  Dylan slammed his eyes shut and pulled back a fraction. Hoping to cover his reaction, he took his time circling the tip of Alec’s head with his tongue as he continued to stroke Alec with his hand. Concentrating on slow, easy breaths.

  In and out through the nose.

  In and out through the nose.

  And as the suffocating sensation slowly passed, Dylan’s heart rate recovered. Mouthing Alec’s head, he glanced up and focused on the blissed-out look on Alec’s face, the sex noises escaping his lips. Finally, Dylan became aware of the salty tang on his tongue again.

  But this time he remembered licking Alec’s cum from his mouth during that fantastically hot moment in the garage.

  Dylan’s dick twitched, very much interested in taking things further. He pressed his mouth to Alec’s slit and sucked, seeking more of the flavor. Alec dug his fingers into Dylan’s shoulder and let out a long groan. If the strength of his grip was anything to go by, he was definitely enjoying Dylan’s e
fforts.

  Alec started to thrust his hips forward and then stopped.

  “‘S’okay, man,” Dylan said. Need totally surpassed any lingering traces of fear now. Dylan trailed his tongue up the engorged vein along the base of Alec’s cock, around the flared crown, and then licked a glistening drop of precum from the tip. “Do what you gotta do,” he murmured and swallowed Alec down.

  Alec let out something resembling a sob and rocked his hips, sliding deeper into Dylan’s mouth. Several visions punched Dylan in the libido at once. Dylan on all fours, Alec pumping into him from behind. Alec on top, spreading Dylan’s knees wide as he targeted Dylan’s prostate with unerring accuracy. Dylan still couldn’t decide which he liked better. Fucking Alec was awesome, but getting fucked by Alec was like awesome squared multiplied by a thousand.

  And Alec using Dylan’s mouth in a similar fashion was a total turn-on.

  Dylan moaned, his cock growing hard. He didn’t have Alec’s coordination. He couldn’t jerk himself off while in the midst of a blowjob—maybe next time or after a bit more practice.

  But, for now, the moment was perfect.

  Today revolved around Alec and making Alec happy.

  Besides, if Dylan got caught up in himself, he’d miss the little things like Alec’s hand now fisted in the hair at the back of Dylan’s head. The desperate clutch of his fingers on Dylan’s shoulder. The arch of Alec’s hips and the slow slide of his cock in and out of Dylan’s mouth.

  He liked hearing the noises wrenched from Alec’s throat. Sucking Alec off wasn’t quite as good as being on the receiving end. But, Jesus, it came pretty damn close.

  “Dylan,” Alec whimpered in warning, his thrusts growing faster. “I’m going to—”

  Dylan didn’t pull back. Instead, he gripped Alec’s ass and shoved him deeper. Alec cried out as cum hit the back of Dylan’s throat. He swallowed eagerly around Alec as the man continued to pump his hips, riding out his orgasm, the warm ejaculate pulsing and pulsing and pulsing…

  Despite his attempts, Dylan couldn’t keep up with it all. When Alec finally crumpled forward a bit, spent, hand on Dylan’s shoulder for support, Dylan released Alec’s cock. Cum dribbled down his chin.