Lazy Sundays (Lazy Days Book 1)

by K-lee Klein

  Devon cocked his head. “I never pictured you as someone who judged people on their looks.”

  “What? No! I wouldn't. I don't.” Scott fingered the bottom of his tacky tie, finally peering up at Devon again. “You have to admit our life experiences are partly based on our appearances and how we handle ourselves.”

  Shaking his head and narrowing his eyes, Devon replied, “People are too hung up on appearances. One person’s beauty is another person’s beast.” The words echoed in the small space but before Scott could try to further explain, Devon continued. “I'm judged because of my tattoos or because I ride a bike and my boots are almost worn through. People assume that means I’m dumber than a post and have no goals in life. It's all about labeling, putting people in little boxes. It irritates the fuck out of me.”

  “I agree,” Scott said with conviction. How had he managed to do the one thing he always feared—upset Devon? “You’re smarter than most people I know, and I honestly didn't mean to…” He trailed off, trying to force his lips into some pleasant shape to ease the mood.

  But Devon hadn't received the memo. He shook his head at Scott. “Let me get this straight. You think because you have a sensible haircut, wear a suit, and work a respectable job as an accountant that makes you unattractive?”

  The question was startling, forward and honest like Devon himself. “Sensible…well, yes. I've been a geek since I was in school. It's no big deal.”

  “But don’t you see? That’s just another label that is neither necessary nor accurate.” Devon scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re not a geek, Scott, or a dork or whatever other shit someone’s put in your head. You know what I think?” He didn't wait for a reply, but rather stepped into Scott's personal bubble. “ I think you’re a beautiful, intelligent man who needs someone to tell him that once in a while.”

  Beautiful was pushing it, yet Scott still blushed to his toes. His lips flapped but no words came out. It was hands-down the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him—ever—and then Devon embraced him tenderly, their chests and thighs pressed tightly together. He sunk his fingers into Scott’s hair, gripping the back of his skull as Scott gave himself over to the glory of being held in strong and loving arms. Not loving-loving, just loving. He wanted nothing more than to see that charming smile back on Devon's face.

  But Devon's words didn't go completely unnoticed in Scott's ever-churning mind. There was passion and belief behind them, too much to ignore or take for granted. Screw being scared of going out in a darn suit! He could do it. It seemed like he could handle most anything and everything if Devon was in his corner, and he truly seemed to be that.

  He squirmed in Devon's hold, trying to get his thoughts in order before breaking the silence. “You're squishing me.”

  Devon snorted, his breath hot and tingling against Scott's head. “So…our second fight?” he asked, lips tickling the top of Scott's ear.

  Scott giggled. Very dignified, Scott. Yet it felt good to laugh in the face of tension. Laughter had rarely seeped into Scott's childhood and often it still felt awkward. His family was more the hang-onto-anger kind of dysfunctional unit. “Second in ten minutes I think. Might as well get them out of the way all at once. Not that I've had a relationship long enough to have one. Um…you?”

  Devon lifted his head brushing the unruly hair from Scott’s forehead and stepping back so their gazes met. “It’s been a long time for me but fighting with him was never this quiet or contained.” He chuckled but it was dry, flat.

  Though he was completely uncomfortable with the topic of the conversation, Scott asked the question in his head anyhow. “Someone you were in love with?”

  Devon’s gaze turned far-away, dullness replacing the usual mischievous glimmer. The blip in attention didn't last long as he stepped into Scott's space again, dragging his fingertips up and down Scott's ribs. “I thought I was. Hell, I guess I was at the time, but it was more of a coming-of-age thing, you know? I was really young and he was my first everything; older man, experienced, controlling. His definition of love was nothing like mine and our relationship wasn't what you'd call healthy.”

  “How long were you with him?” Scott rubbed the tense muscles at the back of Devon’s neck, then across the kissable collarbone he loved to, well, kiss. His fingers came to rest over Devon’s heart. It was beating strong, fast but steady. Scott had obviously struck a nerve.

  Devon huffed, then covered Scott’s hand with his own. “More than two years of thinking nothing I did was right or good enough. Bottom line is I ignored who I really was to please someone who didn’t really think of me as much more than a toy.”

  Scott tried to smother his shock. If he'd had any expectations about what Devon's first love was like, that wasn't it. He recovered his wits quickly. “I hate that you felt that way. I’m sorry.” Scott itched to take the sadness from Devon's voice. He leaned in to press a kiss to Devon’s scruffy cheek. “You can't think you're still that man, right?”

  “God no. I know I’m not. Chalk it up to being young. I learned my lesson, but I don't think I'd be who I am today if it hadn't happened. Experience is what life’s all about, right?” He smiled that sweet Devon smile. “So, are we okay?”

  Scott nodded, boldly pecking Devon's mouth before grabbing his keys from the table by the door. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  Devon tilted his head, tugged on Scott's tie. “Thought you wanted to change?”

  “I figure you’ll protect me from the bullies.”

  Devon took Scott's hand and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss. “You got that right, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Granville Street was a zoo as usual and The Little Shoppe of Jazz hadn’t changed since the first time Scott had met Devon. There was no reason it should have, but it wasn't as intimidating as he remembered. Of course, the new brightness he experienced when they walked in was obviously because Devon made everything bright and shiny all the time.

  The Shoppe was a small, intimate club Scott had been going to for a few years—live music, reasonably priced drinks, people minding their own business. It was comfortable and Scott had always associated comfort with acceptance and non-judgment, and basically being left alone. He’d given up on the gay bars, and other kinds of clubs, years before since they'd never been a good fit for him—ever. The Shoppe had been his only less-than regular haunt. He’d never picked up any guys or even been approached at the club, at least not until Devon DuCaine had shown up.

  “Crowded tonight, huh?”

  Scott looked up from his wine glass and into soft brown eyes. He glanced from side to side, figuring the guy had to be talking to someone else. No one ever talked to him in The Shoppe—for that matter no one ever talked to anyone in this particular club. And that's the way he liked it.

  Licking his lips, Scott curled his hand around the stem of his wine glass, hoping the gesture came off as both casual and friendly—but not too friendly or too casual. “Um…yeah,” he said, clearing his throat when the word came out gruffer than he’d intended. He pointed to the musician readying his horn in the corner. “He always pulls a big crowd.”

  “Any good?” the stud asked, setting his beer down beside Scott’s glass. His dark eyes were eerily black in the dimness of the club, and the guy exuded sex.

  “Yeah, he’s um…yeah, he’s good.” Awkwardly, Scott dipped his head again, tracing the lip of his glass with his index finger, giving him something to do with his hands. He wished the butterflies in his belly would go flutter somewhere else.

  “You mind if I share your table?”

  Scott whipped his head up so fast his vision dotted with black spots. He snuck a look around the room. It was busy but there were a few tables and stools empty so why did this guy…?

  “Hey. It’s okay, man. I can find another table.”

  “No!” Darn it, that came out wrong. “I mean…you can sit here if you want.”

  The cutest dimples ever met his eyes. “I want.
Thanks,” the guy said, already settling onto the tall stool at the café table.

  The next few minutes were spent in uncomfortable silence while the night’s entertainment continued to set up. Of course, Scott's tablemate looked nothing but relaxed, while the butterflies in Scott’s stomach had multiplied and invited a cluster of nasty insects along for the ride.

  “Being nervous is ridiculous,” he chastised himself inside his own head. Why was he so nervous, anyway? He was sharing a table, not jumping in the sack with the guy—simply two guys enjoying some music and sharing a table. Just because the guy was hotter than holy hell and stared into Scott's eyes like he could see his very soul didn’t mean Scott had to act like it was a date. Jesus, how had that even popped into his head?

  “Name’s Devon.”

  Scott shook the proffered hand, noticing the contrast between soft skin and calluses on Devon’s large palm. “Oh sorry. I’m, um, Scott.”

  Devon was all plump sexy lips, straight white teeth, and oh yeah, dimples. “Come here often, Scott?”

  The pick-up line made Scott snicker. “Yeah. You?”

  The hunk shook his head, drained the rest of his beer and started picking at the label. “First time. I like it. It’s quiet and kind of mysterious.”

  The snort that shoved up Scott's throat was highly embarrassing. Scott quickly covered his mouth with his hand. “Quiet, yes, but mysterious? Not so much.”

  “I dunno. You seem a little mysterious.”

  “That is so far from the truth,” Scott replied. Since he’d had no intention of commenting at all, heat began in his neck and swept into his face. He silently thanked the owners of The Shoppe for the exquisitely dim lighting.

  Devon’s enthusiasm faded a little, but his eyes still twinkled as he touched Scott’s hand. “Another round?”

  Scott shook his head, charmed but unsure. “You don’t have to buy me a drink.”

  Two perfect dimples smiled back at him. “What if I want to?” Devon hummed and Scott's body betrayed him with a shudder from tailbone to neck all because of a sexy growl and cheeky wink. “I have invaded your table after all.”

  They had another round then another after that. Scott was grateful when the music started and he didn’t have to try and keep his composure with Devon any longer. How could he not sneak a few peeks at his glorious “date”—he could think of him that way if he wanted, no one had to know. Damn he was fine, and definitely not Scott’s type. Well, not exactly not his type, but not the type Scott had ever considered he’d ever be able to call his type. Dammit, even his thoughts were awkward in his head.

  He noticed Devon watching him a few times as well but chalked it up to mere curiosity at Scott’s out-of-date hairstyle, his dorky glasses, or boring shirt and pants. There was nothing boring about Devon. A black t-shirt stretched taut over his barrel chest, complemented by black jeans and a black leather jacket that he’d draped over the back of his chair. Most men would look dull, too trendy, or like they were trying too hard when they dressed all in black, but Devon wore it like a cloak of mystery. The vast assortment of bracelets circling his wrist were very curious too. Yet he’d said Scott was the mysterious one?

  Devon's five o’clock shadow was sexy to the nth degree, not exactly a beard but not trimmed neat and tidy like most of the men in the club. Something told Scott that Devon didn’t often conform to what others thought or said. It was refreshing. As was the ink peeking out from beneath Devon’s sleeve. Tattoos fascinated Scott, possibly because he'd never seen any up close, didn't even personally know anyone who had them. Not that he’d ever had the inclination to have someone poke painful holes in his skin, thank you very much.

  “You have incredible eyes.” The remark came as the jazz musician had taken a fifteen-minute break, Devon’s eyes crinkling brightly at the corners. Scott felt more than a little shell-shocked.

  Scott flapped his gums before intelligently replying, “Um.”

  “Hey, no problem,” Devon said, squinting at Scott. “I might have got the wrong impression of you?”

  “Impression?”

  “I thought you might be interested in me.”

  Scott nearly fell off his high stool. People…men did not come out and say things like that to him. Jeez, did they actually say that to anyone? He was vaguely aware of sitting with his mouth hanging open and quickly brought his glass to his lips. He took a large gulp and proceeded to ungracefully choke on his wine.

  Devon patted him on the back, the palm of his hand burning a hole through Scott’s long-sleeved shirt right to the skin. “Goddamn. I’ve never had that reaction before,” he joked. “You okay?”

  Scott gave one last cough, nodding his head as he sorted his thoughts. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m obviously not the most elegant date.”

  “Date?”

  “Oh my god. That’s not what I meant.”

  “Does that mean you’re not interested?” Devon asked.

  Scott gathered up what little bravery he possessed, finally looking up into curious eyes. “Of course I am. Who wouldn’t be?”

  Devon chuckled, and it was almost musical. Scott relaxed back into his chair, the burning in his throat disappearing and his lips curving into something pleasant. If he was going to wear out what little courage he had, he might as well use it all at once.

  He exhaled until his lungs burned. “We can go to um… my place if you want.”

  “I want,” Devon repeated. “But I don’t mind sticking around for a bit. No rush, right? Or are you the quick and easy type?”

  Quick and easy was certainly one way to describe their first night together. They’d both already been half hard when they left the club. Devon said he couldn’t ride his motorcycle in his present condition, so Scott had driven them both back to his place with Devon’s hand strategically placed on his thigh the whole way.

  “Nice place. Where’s the bedroom?”

  Scott liked Devon’s attitude, liked everything about him, and as difficult as falling into bed with a beautiful stranger was, he made the sacrifice wholeheartedly. Devon slipped out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor at his feet.

  “Do you kiss?”

  Scott was surprised at Devon’s question but the sincerity in his eyes told him it was valid. “Do I? What?”

  Devon shrugged, stepping closer to Scott, his hand slipping behind Scott’s neck. “Been with guys who don’t, but personally I like to kiss.”

  Oh fuck, yes.

  Surprisingly and totally out of character, Scott made the first move, rising up on his toes and capturing Devon’s lips. It was bold and determined, and so not how Scott usually was, but it felt better than anything he’d felt before. Devon pulled him hard against his chest, hands moving to cup Scott’s ass while he ground their hips together.

  They licked and sucked at each other’s mouths, testing the waters slowly before Devon poked the seam of Scott's lips then slid his tongue inside. Scott whimpered as he sucked on the tip then twined and twisted it with his own. Kissing a man who wasn’t trying too hard was a treat; no messy slobber, no tongue trying to assault Scott’s tonsils, and no unnecessary grinding of lips and teeth. Devon kissed with his whole body and there was certainly nothing better than that.

  Scott groaned when he eased away, breathless when his heart thumped against his ribcage and his dick throbbed in his pants. “You’re a great kisser.”

  “You talk too much,” Devon whispered, slipping his fingers under the hem of Scott’s shirt. “And you have way too many clothes on.” The shirt was easily removed, the buttons ignored as Devon yanked it over Scott’s head.

  “I’m not the one who keeps talking,” Scott replied, returning the favor when he removed Devon’s tight t-shirt the same way. He swallowed a gasp of surprise when two beautiful silver rings were revealed on Devon’s chest. “Wow,” he gushed in another intelligent moment. “You're magnificent.”

  He was surprised again by his boldness, but it had grand results when he was shoved backward and his ass
hit the bed. Devon was instantly on top of him, kissing, licking, groping, snaking his hand down Scott’s pants. Warm fingers wrapped around Scott’s cock, the lack of space not hindering Devon in the least.

  “Take them off,” Scott suggested, sucking in his belly as Devon went to work on his button and zipper. His pants were roughly shoved down his hips and over his thighs, tangling at his ankles and left that way. He didn’t mind, especially after Devon’s hot mouth fully engulfed his dick and his balls tightened to within an inch of their lives.

  “Holy hell… wanna touch you, too.” He was slightly embarrassed that he was already leaking down Devon’s throat from a few well-maneuvered sucks and gropes, but damn he hadn’t had sex or even a blowjob in a really long time. “Jesus, Devon,” he gasped when Devon took him deeper, the tip of his cock bumping up against the back of Devon’s throat.

  In his before life—his before Devon life—he may have wondered how Devon had become such an expert cocksucker, but right then nothing mattered except the sensation of soft lips stretched wide around his girth. He whined deep in his throat when Devon fingered his balls and the sensitive patch behind them, lightly rubbing and scratching, threatening to send Scott over the edge.

  “Dammit, let me suck you, too.” He was aggravated that he couldn’t touch and taste. He fisted his fingers in Devon’s hair when Devon’s hand slid up and over his quivering body. His belly flexed and fluttered when fingers circled his belly button and then moved up to his chest.

  Scott tugged harder in Devon’s hair until he was finally released with an echoing “pop”.

  “After you come,” Devon said, moving back up Scott’s body to capture his lips in a messy, but perfect kiss. “You taste delicious. If I wasn’t trying to make a good first impression, I’d probably go off in my pants right now.”

  “Oh Lordy, don’t say stuff like that,” Scott gasped. His face was hot from more than having his dick sucked and stroked. Devon had a knack for making him blush and he was glad for the dimness of the room he hoped hid that very fact. Of course, that didn’t do a damn thing to lessen the sexy sparkle in Devon’s eyes.