by Jet Mykles
Groaning to himself, he turned back to the skillet, but not before he saw Patty watching him, a disapproving moue on her face.
“So when are you going to quit on Talon?” she asked brightly, leaning forward on her elbows.
He tossed in the rest of the chopped vegetables, carefully sautéing the mixture. The tang of stir fry filled the air. “No time soon.”
“You should open up your own restaurant.”
“Still saving for that.”
Devon froze, open bottle poised over the lettuce and crispy vegetables. “You’re gonna open your own restaurant?”
“He sure is.”
Steven glared at Patty. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about. But it’s way from happening.”
“He’s being modest. He’s got enough for a down payment on a place. He just needs to get cracking writing a business plan and find a location.”
“She makes it sound so easy.”
“It doesn’t have to be hard.”
“Wow.” Devon mobilized again, pouring dressing. “That’s great. You should totally do it.”
Steven took the two steps to the cabinet holding the serving platter he wanted. “It’s a nice dream.” He pulled out the platter and headed back for the stove. “That’s enough.”
Obediently, Devon stopped pouring. “That’s awesome.” He picked up the wide wooden salad servers and started tossing the salad the way Steven had taught him. “Wish I had something like that.”
“You’re young yet,” Patty chimed in. “You’ll find something.”
“I guess. I may need to find something soon.”
Steven scraped the stir fry onto the platter, but kept an eye on Devon. He frowned. “What do you mean? What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t believe you.”
Those broad shoulders hunched a little. It hurt Steven every time Devon curled into himself like that. He wanted to go hug him, but was mindful not only of the hot skillet in his hand, but of Patty’s watchful eye. “I may lose my job.”
The words were mumbled, but Steven heard them just fine. “What?! Why?”
Devon cringed. “I have a hard time making it to work on time the days that I need to go in early.”
“How early are we talking?” Patty asked.
“I need to be there at four a.m. three days out of the week.” He took the salad servers and bowl to the table. “I’ve only been on time once in the last two weeks. This morning I was really late.” By the grimace, Steven guessed the “really late” consisted of hours.
“Ever heard of an alarm clock?” Patty asked. She ignored Steven’s glare.
“Yeah.” Devon sat in his chair with a sigh. “I got this problem. I turn them off and fall back asleep. I don’t mean to.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’ve been doing it through high school. I got lucky my last year and had a really cool Spanish teacher who let me slide as long as I did okay on my tests.”
Steven came to the table with the platter. “What are you going to do?”
Devon jumped forward, picking up the rice bowl again and holding it with the scoop toward Patty. She nodded, and he dolloped out a healthy portion for her. “I don’t know. Keep trying to get up early, I guess.”
When Devon had finished with Patty’s rice, Steven topped it off with stir fry. “Obviously that’s not working.”
Devon served some rice onto Steven’s plate. “I know.”
“Have you tried going to bed earlier?” Patty asked, waiting before she picked up her fork.
“Yeah.” Finished with Steven’s plate, Devon finally dished out some for himself. “Doesn’t really work. I can’t sleep before midnight unless I’m really tired. On a normal night, even if I try and go to bed early, I just lay there staring at the ceiling.”
“That never helps.” Steven served stir fry for both Devon and himself, then set the platter on the table as he sat. “Jeez, can you get another job?”
A glum shrug. “I dunno. My dad got me this one. He’s a dispatcher at the office near where we live.”
Patty pointed her fork at him. “Nonsense. You’re a bright boy. You can find something.”
Steven hid a smile by forking food into his mouth. Just a little while ago, Patty was calling Devon a deadbeat. In the presence of the man himself, she went protective. Of course, it was hard not to be protective of Devon.
Devon ate a few bites in silence. “I actually like my job. Most of the time. I don’t mind the driving around or the lifting.” Steven couldn’t help but glance at the nicely rounded bicep half hidden by the sleeve of the t-shirt. Yes, he imagined those arms could easily lift many things—like a full-grown gay man, for one.
“Maybe you can find a courier job somewhere else,” Steven suggested, reigning in his thoughts as he scooped up meat, veggies, and rice.
“Maybe.” Devon picked at his food rather than devouring it, a sure sign that he was in the dumps. “I guess I should start looking. Mac was pretty PO’d today.”
“Mac’s your boss?” Patty asked.
Devon nodded.
“Now, now, don’t get so glum.” She patted his shoulder. “We’ll think of something.”
And there she went with the “we.” Steven let it go and let them talk, nursing a half-cocked idea of his own. An idea he thought best not to be offered in front of Patty.
Steven dried his hands while Devon dried the last few dishes and put them away. Patty was gone as of a few minutes previous, and soon Devon would be heading up to his own apartment. It was now or never.
And probably moronic to offer. But what the hell. He turned and propped his butt against the counter edge. “Hey, Dev?”
Back to him, Devon reached up to put away the salad bowl, exposing that nice swath of smooth skin along his lower back.
Wanting to bite, Steven contented himself with licking his own lips and digging his fingers a bit harder into his arms. “I’ve been thinking about the work thing.”
Devon winced as he turned back to the remaining dishes. The conversation had long ago strayed from the subject of jobs, and clearly he didn’t want to talk about it. “Yeah?”
“You know that I need to get up early almost every morning to do my fish and produce run?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to get up at three. If I woke you up, you could get to work by four, couldn’t you?”
Devon froze, the glass he held still dripping into the strainer. He blinked big eyes at Steven. “You’d do that?”
Steven was a tad irritated that Devon was continually surprised at his offers of help. Had he backed down from an offer yet? “Sure. No skin off my back. I’m up anyway.”
The kid was simply too damn adorable when he smiled like that. His face transformed, blooming and glowing. His straight white teeth shone between perfect lips. Damned if that silly little goatee didn’t even do a little dance. And the eyes. Oh, man, the eyes were enough to get Steven to do great feats just to see them shine like that. It was awful, and he was glad the kid was clueless, or he’d really take advantage.
“Oh, man, Steven, you’re the best!” Hastily, he set the glass back in the strainer. Then long legs crossed the kitchen.
Before he realized it, Steven was wrapped in those strong arms. A warm cheek was pressed to his temple, and it was absurdly easy for him to briefly bury his nose in the bend of Devon’s neck, pulling in a quick, guilty sniff of old sweat and salty Devon. He clamped his jaw to resist the urge to bite and took advantage of the opportunity to put his arms around Devon’s torso and squeeze as he was being squeezed.
It was over too quickly, Devon stepping back. Steven even swayed a little, dizzy from being deprived of that absurdly welcome heat. His hands slid down Devon’s sides, lingering for the briefest of moments over the bare skin exposed by a slightly rucked-up t-shirt, then falling away.
“Thank you.” Devon was breathless. And flushed. And so damned beautiful that Steven had to ball his hands into fists to keep from grabbing at him
. Devon kept his hands on Steven’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length, staring into his eyes. Steven was a tad alarmed to see the very first hint of tears in Devon’s eyes. “You’ve been so good to me. You’ve helped me way more than you should. You’ve listened to me complain. I....” He shook his head, swallowing. “I don’t know what I did to deserve finding you. I wish there was some way for me to pay you back.”
Steven’s eyes dropped to Devon’s lips. So close he could feel the gentle waft of Devon’s breath through the parted seam. Wet after he’d just licked them. Inviting. Too inviting.
Soft.
His hands were gripping Devon’s sides. He must have pulled the taller man forward. He knew he must have initiated the kiss, even though he didn’t mean to. But it was so very delicious. Devon’s plump lips had to be sweeter than that cream Patty bought.
And then they were gone. One minute, he was in heaven; next minute, Devon was across the kitchen, up against the refrigerator, the back of his wrist pressed to his mouth.
Steven blinked, then swore. “Shit, Dev, I’m sorry.” Shaking his head, he gripped the countertop to either side of his hips, clutching the tile. He bit his lower lip, punishing himself for taking something he’d thoroughly enjoyed. There was no hiding the bulge in his jeans, so he didn’t bother to try.
“I-it’s okay,” Devon stuttered slowly.
Steven peeked up and winced. Devon still had that just-been-hit-between-the-eyes look. “That was a mistake on my part. A big mistake. Please don’t let that ruin our friendship.”
Devon swallowed, lowering his hand. His back was still against the brushed steel of the refrigerator. “No, I.... No. But, uh, Steven. I’m...I’m not....”
Steven sighed. “I know you’re not gay. I do know that. But I can’t deny that I’m attracted to you. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.” He couldn’t look up at Devon, and the silence made him babble on. “I swear I can handle it. You just kind of took me off guard. Maybe if we didn’t do the touching thing....”
Finally he looked up to see a change in the deer-in-the-headlights look. Now Devon gaped at him. “You’re attracted to me?”
Steven rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, praying for patience. “Yeah. But I won’t let it become a thing, okay?”
“Wow. Okay. Yeah. Sure.”
The tone made Steven look down, and he almost laughed at the flabbergasted expression on Devon’s adorable face. “So, uh, you still want me to wake you up in the morning? Tomorrow’s another early day, right?”
“What? Oh, yeah, right. Um, sure. If you could, I mean, I’d sure appreciate it.”
“Cool. I’ll come up and knock on your door.”
Devon frowned. “That won’t work. I’ll sleep through it.” He bit his lip for a second. “I could give you my second key.”
Steven blinked. Just a moment ago, the boy had jumped away from him because of his lecherous intent, and now he was offering a key to his apartment? Did he think Steven was a saint? “A key?”
“Then you could come in and shake me. That’s what my mom always did.” Steven stared at him until he looked up. It took a second, but then Devon blushed. “Oh. Maybe you don’t want....” He ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”
Wow. Steven pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s okay. If you’re all right with me coming into your apartment, I can do that.”
Devon peeked up, and Steven’s heart spilled out warmth. If Devon had never looked like a puppy dog before, he did now with his big brown eyes glistening up at Steven from underneath a spill of glossy chestnut hair. Steven dug his fingers harder into the counter.
“I’m okay with it. I trust you.”
One of the three pigs trusting the wolf, Steven thought, but swallowed it. Devon needed his help. Devon needed to keep his job. Against all reason, Steven was determined to help this young man.
Even if it kills me.
Chapter Three
As per morning ritual, the scent of fresh coffee lured Steven into the kitchen. He did very much adore his automatic coffeemaker. So much more pleasant to wake up to a deep, earthy fragrance than the buzzing of an alarm clock. He didn’t know if particular odors woke others, but they never failed to wake him. He fished the bag of bagels—fresh from the bakery the previous day—out of the bread box and set it on the counter beside the toaster. Then out came the butter dish, set aside so it could soften a bit while he went upstairs to wake Devon.
“Devon.” He sighed, setting a mug on the counter and reaching for the carafe. He’d relived that brief kiss a number of times in his weaker moments during the night. Jerking off before had hardly taken the edge off his desire. He was, just as Patty had declared, hopelessly infatuated. Which was moronic. Why did he have to go and get obsessed with a straight one? There were plenty of perfectly adorable gay boys in the world, even in this city. Why did a straight transplant happen to float his boat? Unable to answer, he filled the mug and doused it with half-and-half until it was nearly white, just like Devon liked it. Telling that he knew how Devon liked his coffee.
Hopeless.
Mug in hand, he headed for the front door, grabbing Devon’s key on the way out. The building contained six units. His and Patty’s apartments were on the first level, both with two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a separated living and dining area. The second floor contained four studio apartments, each with one big room that was somewhat partitioned into two spaces—one for sleeping and one for “living”—with a kitchenette and a bathroom. Two of the other studio apartments currently had tenants. Steven knew them, but only in passing. Devon and Patty were the only ones he spoke to on a regular basis.
Humming softly to himself, he approached Devon’s apartment door. Mindful of Devon’s warning about not hearing a knock, he inserted the key and let himself in. Darkness and the conflicting smells of stale, sweaty clothing, pretzels, and Ivory soap assailed him as he walked in. The heavy blinds were shut tight over the two sets of windows, and not a light was on. Since it was still dark outside, not even a little sunlight seeped through blinds.
The only illumination was the square of dim yellow that preceded Steven through the front door. He fumbled on the wall just inside the door and found the switch for the overhead lamp in the kitchenette. A yellow glow to match that from the hallway came on, giving him some measure of guidance as he ventured into Devon’s domain for the first time since the younger man moved in.
Predictable for his age, Devon was quite a slob. Clothing was strewn across the floor. Books and papers were stacked high on the tiny table that stood just outside the kitchenette. A laptop and a printer were practically buried under unrecognizable paraphernalia. There were still boxes containing all manner of sports equipment lining the walls, some spilling their contents onto the grungy brown carpet. Steven had to take a couple of steps into the apartment before he could see Devon, who lay sprawled on his futon on the other side of the half-wall that split the main room in two.
Dear Lord. Steven bit his lip to stifle a groan as he switched on a lamp over the desk. He’s trying to kill me, Steven decided, stepping up to the futon’s edge. Either that, or he wants me to molest him. Shirtless and, for all Steven knew, fully naked, Devon lay on his back, a pale shape within a rumpled tangle of chocolate-colored sheets. One arm was bent up, mashing a poor, wilted pillow between it and his head. Devon faced away from Steven toward the windowed wall, his soft lips parted in sleep, long lashes fanning perfect cheeks. Masses of soft brown curls lay sleep-matted over his skull and much of his face. The light brushing of stubble across his jaw did nothing to age him, nor did the lovely ruff of dark, curly fur that protected his pecs and dribbled down an achingly beautiful cobbled belly to disappear beneath the sheet that kept him decent. One long leg was hidden within the sheets, but the other was flung out, muscled and naked, with the foot dangling off the side of the pad. Damn it, even his feet are beautiful.
Shaking his head, sighing, Steven set the mug of coffee on the desk, then le
aned over the angelic vision. “Yo, Dev.”
No response. Deep, even breaths. Would he even know if I touched him?
He curled his fingers into fists to resist the urge. “Devon, wake up.”
Still no response.
Steven stood, hands on hips. “Devon!” Nothing. “Jeez. You weren’t kidding, were you?”
Oh, well, no help for it. Leaning over again, he braced one hand on the mattress, grabbed Devon’s warm, bare shoulder, and shook. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
That got a grumble and a slight fluttering of eyelids, but Devon just rolled to his side, facing Steven, curling the sheet to his front. Well, that was all well and good, but it did bad things for Steven since the move pulled the sheet away from Devon’s backside. Steven now had a perfect profile view of the butt he’d been aching to see for weeks. His reaction started to tent his pajama bottoms.
“God, kid, no fair,” he grumbled. Grabbing the shoulder, he shook again. “Devon, wake up, damn it.”
Devon moaned, soft and breathy, and Steven almost cried. The sound went straight to his dick, which demanded that he climb into the bed and have his way with that gorgeous body.
He punched Devon’s shoulder. “Wake up.”
Finally some movement. Both hoping that the sheet would fall away and praying that it wouldn’t, Steven watched Devon sway, watched those perfect lips press together as heavy brows crowded over closed eyes.
“Up,” he demanded, desperate to get away. Desperate to pounce. “Get up, Devon.”
“Wha’?” Sleepy brown eyes blinked.
And I didn’t think he could get any more adorable. Of all things, Steven loved the sleepy teddy bear thing more than anything. Made him want to cuddle close and sleep for hours. Which I cannot do.
“You awake?”
More frowning. Devon rolled onto his back, reaching up to rub his eyes. Steven tried to look away in time, but he didn’t make it. As Devon rolled, the sheet didn’t quite stick with him, inching away to first reveal a glorious curve of hip melting into thigh, then allowing a peep of thick, dark, curly hair. Thankfully, it caught on the true treasure, but Steven was still afforded a glimpse of one furry testicle nestled in shadow.
