by Kora Knight
Swallowing, Tad shifted the strap against his shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“It’s my night to pump some iron, but my spotter can’t make it. And I really don’t want to skip it since my chances to work out are so few and far between. So…I was kinda hoping you’d stand in for him. Figured you could get a workout, too.”
Tad exhaled in equal parts relief and disappointment. Though honestly, what had he been expecting? Something a bit more kinky and exciting? Maybe.
No, weightlifting was good. It was safe and comfortable and familiar. And it definitely gave him a reason to hang out without pretenses.
Of course, Tad wasn’t a total idiot. He was well aware that, with Scott, other things transpiring was always a possibility. And didn’t that just make his dick want to sing. He shook his head at his body’s shamelessness. Yet, still, he was curious. “What about Max? Or one of your other buddies?”
“Max’s got clients tonight,” Scott answered. “But as for the others,” his voice turned tentative, “I guess I just wanted to ask you first.”
Tad couldn’t keep his smile from widening—or his cheeks from heating like they hadn’t done in weeks. Being someone’s backup shouldn’t feel this cool. Absently eyeing the ground at his feet, he reached up and rubbed his nape. “Ah…” Just do it, he told himself. The guy needed his help, and God knew Tad was bugging to see him.
It’d be cool. They’d had fun. One way or another.
Exhaling, he gave an optimistic nod. “Yeah, okay. I guess I could—” Another suited asshole plowed roughly passed. “Jesus!” he barked, fumbling with his phone as his messenger bag slid down his arm.
“Tad,” Scott chuckled.
Bristling, Tad glared at the son of a bitch’s back, then irritably looked back down. “Yeah.”
“Watch where you’re going. For fuck’s sake, you nearly bounced off that car’s bumper.”
Tad’s feet stopped dead in their tracks. How the hell did Scott know—
Oh, snap.
His eyes shot up. A couple yards away, Scott stood leaning against his Jeep, his lips curving into one majorly smug grin. “Hey, there. Long time no see.”
Again, Tad nearly dropped his phone.
Scott laughed. “You need a hand?”
Still fumbling to right his heavy bag, Tad smiled sheepishly and pocketed his cell. “Uh… No, I’m good.”
His gaze locked intently on the personal trainer. He knew he was staring, but couldn’t seem to help it. Scott just looked so unbelievably good. A sight for sore eyes and shit. His mere fucking image making Tad feel high.
Blinking himself out of it, he drew in a breath and closed the distance between them. “So, uh, wow. This is unexpected. What’re you doing here?”
Scott flashed his killer smile. “Isn’t it obvious? I came to see you.”
And wasn’t that the coolest thing to hear. Scott had actively sought him out. Seriously, that shit was like the highest compliment ever. Heart going double-time, he burrowed both hands into his pockets. “Cell phone just wasn’t cutting it, eh?”
Scott shrugged, smirking wryly. “Meh. Tied me over well enough until you finally got here.”
His big brown eyes slid from Tad’s face down to his cream-colored dress shirt. Following its trail of buttons, he regarded Tad’s partially rolled-up sleeves then moved to study his khakis. “Looking good, by the way.” His stare lingered appreciatively then dropped to Tad’s black oxfords. “You clean up nice.”
“Thanks,” Tad murmured, his own gaze dropping down to Scott’s chest. A navy blue Henley hugged the guy close, clinging to his muscled torso like the thing was laying claim. Refusing to feel jealous of a stupid freaking shirt, Tad’s eyes continued south. Dark-washed denim sat low on Scott’s hips, encasing strong thighs and chiseled calves—and every other place that counted. Damn, the dude could rock a pair of jeans. Tad’s focus finally settled on his brown leather boots. The perfect, classic finish to one mighty fine look. He seriously needed to raid the dude’s closet sometime.
Lifting his gaze… he found Scott watching him.
Smirking.
With one brow raised.
Shit.
Cheeks heating, he cleared his throat and tried to play it off. “Not looking too shabby yourself there, Hoss. Sweet boots.”
Scott chuckled. “Thanks… I think.”
Tad grinned and moved past him to open his Jeep. “No, you’re good. That one was indeed a compliment.” Yes, he shamelessly just referenced their last encounter when Scott insisted on taking a certain grumbling of Tad’s as flattery. Specifically the one regarding the guy’s dick… and how it was way too big.
Behind him, Scott chuckled. Guess he’d caught Tad’s little innuendo. Which implied the guy’s memory of that singular moment was just as clear as Tad’s.
Tamping down a smile, Tad tossed his bag on the passenger seat. “You parked nearby?”
Scott shook his head, shoving off Tad’s Jeep. “Nope. Had Max give me a lift.” When Tad lifted an eyebrow, he sheepishly grinned. “Figured I’d take my chances. Best case scenario, you’d drive us both back to my place.” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and shrugged. “Worst case, you’d drop me off.” Dark expectant eyes held Tad’s steady. “So what do you say? Help a guy out and spot me?” His full lips curved higher. “Shit, I’ll even feed you dinner.”
Tad laughed at that. “Dinner, eh? Damn, dude. You’re really playing hardball now.”
Scott’s killer smile flashed brighter. “Just sweetening the pot.”
“Mmm hmm,” Tad drawled, crossing his arms, his index finger tapping his bicep. “Well, of course now the question that begs to be asked is what you’re gonna make me.”
God, he was actually going to do this. Just like that. Without overthinking it. Without anything. Seemed the only thing he cared about was getting some time with the guy. He’d been jonesing for so long, he just needed a fix. Of Scott. To somehow recharge his insides again. Because not only had staying away been uncomfortable, it’d also been draining. Tad didn’t know why he needed what he needed, he only knew that he did. Which at the moment seemed good enough. Besides, he didn’t have the mental energy to dodge the man any longer.
Scott’s brows lifted, as if genuinely surprised Tad was even considering it. “Um…” He scratched his stubbly cheek and winced. “Subs? I make a mean Italian.”
Tad lips twitched. “Tell me you’ll throw on some banana peppers and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Scott’s big, gorgeous smile returned in a flash. “Peppers, it is. Anything else?”
“Nope,” Tad grinned, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Now get in. Gotta swing by my place real fast to change.”
Scott sauntered around to the passenger side and casually climbed inside. Tad stilled, the inside of his ride abruptly feeling small. Like the dude had just eaten up every spare inch of space. Or maybe his presence was just that consuming… especially at such close proximity. Suddenly all Tad could smell, taste and breathe was the heady aroma of Scott. Because as always, the guy smelled fucking amazing. Too amazing, in fact. The dude’s scent alone was going to give him a boner.
Tad rolled down his window and inhaled deep, then shoved it into reverse. But before he’d even exited the parking lot, Scott was driving his radio. Tad couldn’t help smiling. From what he’d heard of Scott’s taste in music, he knew the guy would find something solid.
His trolling fingers paused a second later as The Script’s upbeat Superhero cut through the cab. “Love this tune. It’s got such great energy.”
And it really did. Thumb tapping the steering wheel, Tad nodded in agreement. “Hall of Fame’s kinda like that, too.”
He spared Scott a glance as the dude leaned back, the seat softly protesting under his weight. Or hell, maybe it was moaning from the sheer fucking pleasure. Tad bit his lip and looked away. But from his peripheral vision, he could see Scott watching him, the guy’s steady gaze stirring warmth in his gut. It s
pread through his veins like a low-grade fever, flushing him with heat from his head to his toes. From his balls to the tip of his cock. And didn’t that get all those half-melted fluttery things all up-and-at-‘em again. He smirked at the ludicrousness of it and shook his head.
“Something funny?” Scott asked.
“Uh…” Tad chuckled awkwardly. “Was just… uh… thinking.”
Scott’s eyebrow lifted. “Care to share?”
Tad barked out a laugh. “Hell, no.”
Scott grunted. “There are ways to make you talk, you know.”
“Uh huh,” Tad drawled, yielding at a traffic light. “And I’m sure you’re quite the master.”
Scott shrugged with a smile. “I have my moments.”
Again, Tad laughed as he took a left. “Well, how about you keep your “moments” to yourself. My thoughts are my own and I’d like them to stay that way.”
They pulled up to his apartment complex a few minutes later. Compared to Scott’s sizeable, three-level lot, Tad’s one-bedroom was seriously humble. But oddly, he didn’t feel even slightly embarrassed. Probably because the guy beside him gave new meaning to non-judgmental. And wasn’t that like a breath of fresh air.
Not to say Tad’s other friends were bigots, because those dumbasses totally weren’t. They were good guys with great hearts and he adored the fuck out of them. But in the last couple weeks, as Tad took apart and scrutinized every aspect of his being, they just couldn’t give him the solace his restlessness mind needed. And though he knew they’d accept him no matter what his deal was—hell, for all he knew, they thought he was a freaking eunuch—they’d never be able to relate. Which was fine and even understandable. How could they get the shit banging around in his skull? It’d be unfair to expect them to, and in a way, made him appreciate their unconditional friendship even more.
But Scott could give him that kind of empathy. Something his sanity seemed to be craving these days. An inward stability he hadn’t realized he’d needed. The last time they’d hung out, he’d begun to suspect it. But now, as Scott sat beside him, effortlessly looking straight into his soul, Tad knew it without a doubt. The guy got him. Really got him. And it was freeing in a way Tad couldn’t describe. But now that he’d tasted it, he didn’t want to let it go. Didn’t want to let Scott go. But not just because of the dude’s comfort card. Scott was like the whole damn package. Because not only did he enable Tad to relax in his skin, he showed him how to find pleasure through it in ways Tad hadn’t known existed.
Scott flat out made him fucking thrive.
Unlocking his apartment door, Tad shoved the thing open and gestured for Scott to enter. “After you, Hercules.”
Scott lifted a brow and grinned. “Comparing me to a demigod? Damn, that’s really nice.”
“Yeah,” Tad chuckled, following him inside. “Maybe that was being a bit too gracious. Should’ve gone with Minotaur instead.” Smirking, he tossed his keys on the breakfast bar.
“Fuck that,” Scott laughed, checking out the place. “I’m too well groomed to be part bull. Those mongrels are fury as shit.”
Tad grinned with a conceding nod. “True. They are definitely that.” Absently, his eyes roamed over Scott’s frame. “And you are definitely not.” Scott paused to look at him. Tad stilled, then coughed and pointed to the couch. “So um… anyway… make yourself at home. I’m gonna go get changed.”
He ended up doing a bit more than that. Like brushing his teeth and tidying his hair and, hell, even re-deodorizing. Geez, he felt like a fucking girl, all freshening up and shit. Fuck it. He wanted to make sure he was good to go in the event something unexpected happened. Aka: anything kinky that Scott might dish.
And didn’t that kind of anticipation seem like a complete one-eighty. Thing was, in the last couple weeks of non-stop dwelling, Tad had come to realize a few pivotal things. One, keeping his ass away from Scott just wasn’t worth the torture. And two, considering how bad he still jonesed for the guy—despite all the craziness still up in his head—it was pointless to deny he enjoyed their exchanges. Like really enjoyed them. As in, was pretty sure he wanted to do them again. Hell, the memories alone gave him mega-monster wood.
But they also made his chest feel all light-headed and goofy. Not that that made any fucking sense. Screw it. He honestly didn’t know how else to explain it. He’d never felt like this before. About anyone. Ever.
Bottom line? Staying away from Scott did nothing but stress him out. Being with him, however, made Tad inexplicably happy. On every freaking level. Because even though Scott made his head fucking spin, Tad’s outlook was clearly shifting. Now his confusion felt more like curiosity. An eagerness for answers as opposed to dread. Not a problem to be solved, but an opportunity for enlightenment. About himself. And his future. And the man he wanted to be.
Didn’t mean he had it all figured out, but at least he felt like he was moving in the right direction.
Rejoining Scott in the living room, he found the guy rummaging through his rack of CD’s.
“Awesome collection you got here. Mind if I borrow a few?”
Tad shrugged. “Nah, man. Have at it.” Shouldering his duffle bag, he smiled. Clearly Scott had just discovered how much their tastes coincided. He swiped up his keys and headed to the door. “You ready to hit it? My stomach’s on empty.”
Scott grinned, plucking out a couple more albums. “I am.” Like a lazy lion, he sauntered over. “I’m curious, though. Is the way to a man’s heart still through his stomach?”
Tad’s easy smile evaporated. Heart? He definitely hadn’t gotten that far into figuring shit out. But more so than that, he didn’t do hearts. Or flowers. Or any of that other stupid lovey dovey shit. All those stupid fucking fluttery things were driving him nuts as it was.
Scott must have sensed his sudden unease because he quickly changed the subject. “Nice place, by the way.” Brushing past, he walked out the door, sliding Tad a sideways smirk. “Such a tidy cat.”
Tad balked, his mouth falling open. “Seriously?” he groused, following the guy out. “I liken you to a demigod and you compare me to kitty litter?”
They pulled up at Scott’s less than twenty minutes later, even with rush hour traffic. They really didn’t live that far apart and Tad knew some pretty sweet shortcuts. Shortcuts that Scott seemed to make mental notes of. Like he was committing the route to memory. Which was fine by Tad—as long as the dude wasn’t some creepy Peeping Tom. Tad liked when friends stopped by. His digs were their digs, and all that jazz. Unless, of course, they ate all his food. Then they’d need to park their shit elsewhere.
Inside, Scott got changed while Tad chilled in the kitchen, and damn, what a kitchen it was. Dark weathered cabinets, black granite countertops and sleek stainless steel appliances. The perfect environment for chowing down. And on that note, Scott had them eating in less than ten minutes flat.
Max wandered in not long after, his auburn locks slicked back away from his face. So, Scott made him a sandwich, too, giving Red a reason to linger for a while. Not that he contributed much to conversation. In fact, the guy seemed strangely reserved compared to the last time he’d seen him. Mostly he just stared at Tad, studying him from across the island like he was some kind of science lab specimen.
Whatever. Max wasn’t exactly the picture perfect image of normalcy himself. Especially considering how he was currently dressed. Leather, leather, spikes and more leather. The fancier stuff adorning his neck and biceps. And then there were the lengths of chains hanging from his pants. And the black stuff lining his eyes. Which gave him a kind of emo vibe—and made his irises stand out like emeralds.
As a whole, the dude just looked downright depraved. His tight set jaw and rigid posture weren’t exactly helping his cause. Tad eyed him curiously. Did Doms need to get into character or something? He wondered if Max’s subs liked him all dark and broody. Hell, if Tad was strapped down with that dude coming at him, he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d pop a boner or fuck
ing piss himself. He tamped down a shudder and took another bite.
Ultimately, Red’s hard gaze settled on Scott. But man, the way he looked at him really rubbed Tad wrong. Way too intense. He didn’t miss the way Scott let it slide, either. Clearly, he knew Max was staring him down, yet oddly, he seemed unfazed. Like he was used to it or something.
Tad fought not to frown, fought even harder not to speculate. ‘Cause that’s what got him into trouble. Overanalyzing all the things he’d be better off not even thinking about. Like Scott and Max’s unsettling dynamic.
Thankfully, Scott wrapped things up and ushered Tad downstairs. The second they entered the gym, all tension melted away. It probably had something to do with Scott losing his shirt—and the impressive show of muscles that followed. Tad’s lips pressed with equal parts appreciation and envy. Bodies like Scott’s were few and far between. He supposed that was a good thing; made people venerate them on a level they truly deserved.
Hooded hazels took in the dude’s ripped physique, intently watching him saunter his ass over to the stereo. If Hercules and Achilles were ever to get it on and somehow pop out kids? Those rug rats would totally look like Scott. Macklemore’s funky rap filled the air just as Tad drew in a breath. He remembered how Scott’s muscles felt under his palms, all smooth and bunching and shit. When he’d desperately clung to them in the throes of passion a month ago in that very basement. But on Scott’s massage table with the dude’s massive dick buried up his ass.
Oh, hell. He was getting wood.
Shaking the thoughts away, Tad cleared his throat. “So, whatchu benching these days?”
“Three-twenty,” Scott grinned as he headed to the bench press.
Tad’s brows shot up. “Jesus.”
“Why,” Scott laughed. “What’re you?”
“Two-fifty,” he muttered. “On a good day.”
“Hmm,” Scott mused, switching the plates on his barbell. “Sounds like you need a better trainer.”
