The Wedding Planner

by GA Hauser

  “Jeans. Bryan’s not fancy.”

  “You’re in a better mood. Good.”

  “Just please, I beg you, don’t tell me one fucking tidbit about the two of you together. I’ll have recurring nightmares, I swear.”

  “Promise.” Adrian held up his hand.

  The minute the doors open, Jordon dashed out, “Bye!” barely hearing Adrian’s parting words.

  He slowed down when he made it to his lobby. Jordon immediately spotted Tyler. Tight, light gray leggings, cut high on his thighs, and a matching gray tank top, just as tight, the same cotton-Lycra mix, showed every fucking bulge to perfection. If Tyler Holliday was dressing to seduce, it was working.

  “Hey.” Tyler seemed shy suddenly.

  “Hi.” Jordon wasn’t only in heat, he was blushing horribly.

  “I brought a list of dress shops.”

  “Great.” They entered the elevator and were silent.

  Once they were in front of his condo door, Jordon said, “Two minutes.”

  “No rush. Where should I put the list?”

  “Anywhere. Be back.” Jordon loosened his tie as he closed the bedroom door. Under his breath he said, “Fine. You can look like that? So can I. What the hell do I have?” He crouched by his drawer and dug for something erotic.

  ***

  Once he placed the list on the kitchen table, Tyler set his gym bag down and was drawn to the window in the living room. The Manhattan skyline beckoned. It was hazy, the second week of August. Still too hot for his liking. Smog loomed on the horizon.

  He heard the bedroom door and spun around, about to comment on the view. Tyler choked. Jordon was wearing a light blue t-shirt, the sleeves torn off high on his shoulders, cut to a bare midriff, and ripped in half at the neck. The logo was chopped up so badly, Tyler had no idea what it advertised and could care less. All of Jordon’s six-pack abs stood exposed right down to the dark, sultry hair on his pelvis where his miniscule navy blue gym shorts barely covered his balls and ass. The sides of the shorts were slit, revealing the hollows of his hips.

  “Please tell me you have a sweatshirt to put over that outfit.”

  “A sweatshirt? In this heat?” Jordon tilted his head. “Do you have any idea how much I sweat during that workout?”

  After swallowing a dry gulp, Tyler nodded. “Yes. I do.”

  “You ready?” Jordon tossed his towel over his shoulder in an easy, masculine gesture.

  Speechless, Tyler hoped Jordon’s attire was meant to entice, seduce, because if Jordon Buck was just wearing that outfit because he was “hot,” Tyler knew that was a gross understatement.

  Tyler crouched to retrieve his towel and could see his own erection very plainly through his gray leggings. He hid it with the terry cloth towel." The dress shop list is on the table.”

  “Thanks.” Jordon grabbed his key ring, opening the door. He swept his hand gallantly, obviously signaling Tyler to leave first.

  I can’t do this. This is insane. Why are we teasing each other to death? Why am I here again? I must be a fucking masochist.

  Tyler walked past him, half expecting a nice squeeze on his ass. It didn’t happen. He couldn’t help but be disappointed.

  “How many guest visits am I entitled to?” Tyler attempted to keep this asexual. Someone had to. They were dressed for fornication.

  “Until someone complains, who gives a shit?” Jordon barely nodded at the female attendant whose tongue rolled out the minute the two of them walked by.

  Tyler claimed the same machine he'd used the day before, draping his towel on the rail. “I’m still fucking sore. I hope I can do this.”

  “No pain. No gain.”

  “You’re a fucking slave driver, Buck.”

  “Go easy. No one’s telling you to compete with me. If ya can’t…”

  Tyler caught that wicked smirk so plainly it was as if Jordon had written the line, Take the bait, chicken shit, across the LCD display on the treadmill. And he did. He took it. “Screw you. You think you can beat me this time? Haven’t I proven you can’t already?”

  “I’m sore!” Jordon whined mockingly.

  Tyler shook his head, almost muttering profanity aimed at that cockiness. “Bring it on, stockbroker.”

  “I’m ready, wedding planner.”

  The machines programmed, they shouted “Go!” together.

  The pain in Tyler’s legs and ass was instantly intolerable from the buildup of lactic acid from yesterday’s workout. But hell if he was going to be defeated. He could take pain. No big deal.

  He heard Jordon’s wicked laugh. Tyler realized he was grimacing from the discomfort. “Fuck you.”

  “In your dreams, bitch.”

  Tyler said, “At least we cleared up who the top is.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” As he peeked at Jordon, it looked like the comment dawned on him. Tyler snickered at his shocked expression.

  Alejandro appeared. He gaped at them in astonishment. “Ay caramba! What are you two trying to do to me?” He rubbed his forehead. “For two men who are not trying to screw, you two are impossible! I need a cold shower looking at you.”

  Tyler laughed and peeked at Jordon for his reaction. He was grinning demonically.

  “What will you do next time? Come in bathing suits? Naked?”

  “What are you talking about, Alejandro?” Jordon asked.

  Tyler rolled his eyes at the folly. “He’s pretending he didn’t dress like that so everyone would admire his perfect fucking bod.”

  “I admire!” Alejandro replied. “And you! Who ‘you blaming of pretending to dress not to show off. Look at your pene grande!”

  “Ha.” Jordon snorted as if accusing Tyler of seduction.

  “Shut up and run.” Tyler started laughing. They were both guilty as sin. Tyler just didn’t know whether to love the sexual game, or hate it for its eternal cock tease.

  “Ay, ay… if I look at you two now I will not be able to work out.” Alejandro waved at them as if he were shooing them away and walked off.

  The comments left a permanent grin on Tyler’s face. He knew it. Confirmed. Thank you, Alejandro. And… thank fuck the soreness was leaving with the warming up of his muscles. As they hit the first hard incline and sprint upward, Tyler was ready.

  Jordon kept glancing over at him.

  “What now?” Tyler shouted as he panted.

  “Just seeing if your sore ass is going to make you give up.”

  “I’ll give you a sore ass,” Tyler muttered.

  “I heard that.”

  “Good!” Tyler grinned. He was beginning to adore that man. Too much. Way too much.

  ***

  Forty-five minutes later, Jordon was surprised Tyler hadn’t caved in to his aching muscles. He remembered his first few times running this challenging program and then dying, he was so damn sore. He doubted he could have done it twice, one day after the other, the first time. Tyler was one tough son of a bitch.

  The final hill climb and sprint arrived. Jordon heard Tyler’s agony. “Keep going, Holliday, you’re there.” Tyler’s grunting made Jordon blushed as Jordon imagined Tyler made the same noise when he came. It was very sexy and masculine.

  “Fuck!” Tyler cried when the cool down finally hit. He grabbed the rails and whimpered in pain.

  The sound made the goose flesh rise on Jordon’s arms. It was way too arousing.

  Both machines stopped simultaneously.

  “Great job. I know how sore you were.” Jordon patted Tyler’s shoulder, feeling his soaked skin.

  “Thanks. I thought you’d be pissed I didn’t give up.” He wiped the machine down.

  “On the contrary.” Jordon tapped his arm. “Get a drink.”

  When Tyler leaned over the fountain, Jordon “drank” in Tyler’s wet gray spandex. Nothing was concealed. Not a ripple, not a bulge. As Tyler shifted his weight to one leg, tipping forward and raising the other behind him, Jordon got a good look at his balls. This game was drivin
g him out of his mind.

  Tyler, still catching his breath, stepped back, wiping his mouth and neck with his towel. “Your turn.”

  Jordon stepped up to the tower fountain, depressing the metal button. He sucked the ice water down thirstily. He found Tyler ogling his every inch.

  They stood together, recuperating, trying to breathe normally.

  “Give me that.” Tyler took Jordon’s towel from him and ran it over Jordon’s naked abdomen, mopping up his pouring sweat.

  As the dabbing dipped under his midriff to his chest, Jordon closed his eyes in bliss.

  “You’re drenched.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s next? Weights? Crunches?”

  Tyler draped the towel over Jordon’s shoulder, giving it back to him.

  To repay his kindness, or maybe something else Jordon didn’t want to admit, he used his towel to wipe the running sweat off Tyler’s neck.

  “Get a room,” some man sneered as he walked past.

  Instantly they stepped back from each other.

  “How about just some bench presses and we’ll call it a day?” Jordon dabbed his own perspiration after the stranger’s admonishment. He was dying of embarrassment and didn’t even entertain the idea of looking at the man who had uttered it.

  “Great.”

  Jordon loaded up a bar with weights, draped his towel over the padded bench, and lay back on it. When he looked up, Tyler’s sweaty, gray-Lycra-covered nuts were hanging over his face. Jordon ogled the delightful package, licking the salt off his lips.

  Tyler laughed softly. “Distracted, Buck?”

  When Tyler swung his hips forward, those heavy balls were close enough to nip at, and Jordon wanted to. Very much. “Christ, why don’t you just sit on my face, Holliday. Geez.”

  “Is that an invitation?” Tyler purred.

  “You wish.”

  “Lift the fucking weights, Jordon. Stop procrastinating.”

  Jordon got a grip on the bar and had to force himself to stop leering at the outline of that amazing set of genitalia. He made a half-ass attempt at a few repetitions, replaced the bar, and sat up. “Maybe I’m not into this.”

  “Let me just do two sets and we’re done.”

  Jordon stood.

  “Leave your towel. I don’t mind your sweat on me.” Tyler stayed his hand before Jordon tugged the towel off.

  Jordon stood behind the bar the way Tyler had. After Tyler took a good look at Jordon’s crotch, he pumped ten quick reps. He paused for a mini-break, and repeated it. “Good enough. You know, that run takes it out of me. It’s hard to keep going after fifty minutes of torture.”

  Torture? Jordon choked silently. You want to know what torture is, my friend? “Let’s go.” Jordon waited for Tyler to stand. They replaced the weights, grabbed their towels, and left the gym.

  On their walk down the long corridor, Tyler said, “You watching more Olympics tonight?”

  “I’d love to. I really enjoy it. Any track and field on? Do you know?”

  “We can check the listing.”

  Jordon put his key in his lock.

  “Yankees or Mets?” Tyler asked playfully.

  As he opened the door, Jordon laughed, “Yanks.”

  “Jeter or Rodriguez?”

  “Jeter,” Jordon replied, grinning at Tyler.

  “Ahh! Knew it!” Tyler grabbed Jordon around the neck to roughhouse with him.

  “What? You’re a Mets fan?” Jordon wrestled him back, laughing.

  “Nope. Yanks. Love Jeter. A-Rod lost me with his Madonna shit.”

  “Good thing you’re not a Mets fan,” Jordon teased, tussling Tyler around. “I’d have to kick yer ass.”

  Tyler wrapped his arms around Jordon’s waist, picking him up off the ground. “You think you can kick my ass, runt?”

  “Runt! Who you callin’ runt? What? You think you’re bigger than me ‘cause you’re a cocky bastard?”

  “I am bigger than you, Buck!”

  Jordon grabbed him around the neck roughly. “Like hell. Bigger ego, maybe!”

  “How tall are you, Buckie?”

  “Buckie?” Jordon choked in a laugh and they started scrapping playfully. “Six-fucking-one!”

  “I’m six-fucking-three!”

  “In high heels you are!” Jordon laughed, battling Tyler’s powerful grip.

  “High heels? High heels?” Tyler choked with indignation. “Six-three, two-twenty, Buck! Hear it and weep!” Tyler grappled with him, trying to pick him up again. “What are you? Do you even weigh two hundred, Buckie?”

  Knowing he weighed one ninety, Jordon started laughing. “Shut up.”

  “Ha! Don’t even weigh two? Put some meat on your bones, lady.”

  “You’re the damn lady, not me,” Jordon roared with laughter. It was just too much fun!

  “Depends who’s topping, hot stuff.”

  “Huh?” Jordon chuckled, but was lost. “You’re so damn sure of yourself, aren’t ya, Holliday?”

  “I’m damn sure I can beat you at weight lifting, or anything else that requires muscle, Buck.”

  Jordon stepped up the violence slightly, going into college wrestling mode. “You ain’t so strong, Holly.”

  “Holly?” Tyler choked with laughter.

  “What the hell’d ya call me Buckie for?”

  “You getting rough, mister? Think you’re tough?”

  “Yeah, I’m tough. Tougher than you, ya bastard.”

  Then to Jordon’s astonishment, Tyler picked him up off the floor, carried him to the bedroom and threw him on the bed in his bedroom in a classic Olympic-wrestling-style move. The minute Jordon was prone, Tyler crushed him to the bed under him.

  “Augh! You wrestled?” Jordon gasped in shock.

  “Metro wrestling freestyle champ 2006!” Tyler flipped Jordon over and pinned his shoulders easily to the mattress.

  “No way!” Jordon was impressed. “Is that the truth?”

  “It is.” Tyler grinned.

  “Christ, you are so amazing. I wrestled in both high school and college. Loved it.”

  “Come down to the club. We’ll have a bout.”

  “Can we do that?”

  “Of course!” Tyler said.

  “I would love that.” Jordon beamed at him.

  “I know what I'd love,” Tyler hissed.

  Suddenly realizing they were overlapping on the bed, Jordon stared at Tyler’s soft blue eyes. “I can’t, Tyler.”

  “I know.” Tyler released a long deep sigh.

  Tentatively, Jordon raised his hand. It hovered for a moment near Tyler’s face. Tyler’s eyes never wavered from their connection to his. As slowly as if he were a child touching someone for the first time, Jordon brushed his hand over Tyler’s thick black hair.

  Instantly, Tyler let out a breathy sound, full of longing, and leaned into the caress.

  “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” Jordon whispered.

  Tyler lowered his long dark eyelashes and begged, “Don’t start something you can’t finish. I can’t take it, Jordon. I want you too much.”

  As slowly as he had raised it, Jordon lowered his arm back to the bed. They held each other, still resting on each other, staring at what they couldn’t have.

  “I…” Jordon’s voice sounded distant, even to him. “I have enjoyed our time. I really have.”

  “Me too. I can’t tell you how much I like being with you.”

  “I can’t believe how easy you are to talk to, Tyler.” Jordon had that urge to stroke back his hair from his face again, but fought it. Tyler was chewing his bottom lip, as if he, too, were holding back his own temptations. “You’re fun. Playful. And delightful to discuss things with. I mean that.”

  “Jordon, please.” Tyler looked away.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you. I just mean these things. It would be wrong to feel them and not say them.”

  At that comment, Tyler met his eyes again and the stare was so intense, it made Jordon
’s pulse rocket. “Does that mean I can say things to you? The things I’m feeling?”

  That statement was so full of warning it terrified Jordon. But he was dying to hear it. “Yes. Tell me.”