by Willa Okati
Now why don’t I think that’s within the realm of possibility while I’m in the company of this guy? Allen thought as Chance wriggled a little on the smooth leather seat, the perfect curve of his ass settling in as if the passenger side had been made for him.
Chance gave Allen a questioning look before reaching for the safety harness. “I always wear my seatbelt,” he said in that voice which made Allen want to throw Chance down on the floor, cover him with chocolate sauce, and lick it all off. “I know it’s safer.”
“Also the law,” Allen bit out. Almost all single syllables; good. “Let’s go.” Hey, I’m not bad at this. See? I can even do it when I think. Although I’d better not ramble on to myself -- damn, two syllables -- or he’ll start staring -- damn -- like he is now.
Sure enough, those big blue eyes were gazing at Allen in frank curiosity. Allen swallowed down a lump in his throat. He’d seen that kind of look before in a Siberian Husky’s eyes. The dog had been sweet as sugar pie, but he’d still given Allen a measuring look, as if trying to decide whether he was lunch, a friend, or just plain nuts.
Allen had an uncomfortable feeling that Chance was leaning toward the “nuts” side. “I’m not angry,” he said, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Where to?”
Chance clicked the end of his seatbelt into the holster and nodded. Still very much wary. “It’s not far. Since, um, the guys who showed up weren't any help... do you think I can call a tow truck this late to come and get my Bug?” He took on a worried air. “I don’t have much. The car is the biggest thing I own.”
Spot chose that moment to whine and poke his muzzle up between the seats. Allen automatically reached out to pet the animal. As luck would have it, Chance chose that moment to do the exact same thing. When their fingers collided, Allen sat utterly still. Logic told him to move his hand back, but his idiotic body wasn’t listening. It felt the snap! crackle! pop! of electricity between himself and Chance and told Allen in no uncertain terms Uh-uh. We’re staying right here.
Chance made a small noise Allen couldn’t interpret and began rubbing Spot’s nose. The way his fingers flexed and moved beneath Allen’s couldn’t help but make Allen wonder what it would be like if Chance’s hand were on the younger man’s no-doubt thick, solid cock, Allen’s hand wrapped around his, stroking hard up and down and...
“Whoa, momma,” Allen whispered out loud. Then he mentally smacked himself. Way to go in the not-insane department. But then again, what did he care? He was driving Chance home, dropping him and Spot off, and with any luck he’d never see the kid again. He didn’t think Chance would jump out of a moving car even if he was riding with a madman... but he wasn’t all too sure how Chance would react to the nascent erection starting to prod at the back of Allen’s zipper.
So, why did he care?
I don’t, Allen told himself firmly. He readjusted himself with his free hand for a little ease and to hide his condition, knowing that the move made him look like a jackass but frankly not caring all that much. “Ready?” he asked, moving his other hand to the keys dangling from the ignition. “You have to tell me where to go.”
Chance ducked his head, peeking up through his eyelashes. “It’s not far, but it’s kind of complicated to get there,” he murmured. “A lot of twists and turns. I’m really, really sorry.”
Allen shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound. He’d just have to be careful about retracing his steps. He started to turn the key, and then a thought occurred to him. “Chance?”
Chance was still looking at him through that thick fan of lashes. “Yes?” he asked, his voice tremulous, as if he expected to be hit. A large part of Allen’s emotions directed themselves in the direction of serious ass-kickings for those who had made Chance this uncertain of himself.
With those thoughts in mind, Allen tried to gentle his voice. “How far is ‘far,’ exactly?”
Chance turned the most appealing shade of pink yet. He was a bigger blusher than anyone Allen had ever seen, and Allen hadn’t ever thought he’d see someone topping that gentle bear, David, another member of the Brotherhood. Okay, not topping him, topping, because that led his mind down all sorts of paths he just didn’t feel up to navigating at the moment.
“It’s outside the city,” Chance said apologetically. “But we’re pretty close to the outskirts anyway, right?”
“Actually no,” Allen pointed out, proud of himself for remaining calm. “We’re in the dead center, hence the name of the veterinary clinic. We cover the region. Regional. Seeing a connection?”
Chance’s flush darkened. “It didn’t seem like that far when I was driving in,” he apologized. “But I guess I got distracted.”
“I’d never have guessed,” Allen said dryly. “Okay, which direction do I head in?”
“Out of the parking lot first.”
Allen cut Chance a sharp glance. Was the kid actually making a joke? “Very funny,” he replied just in case Chance had been teasing. “Don’t nettle the driver. Which way, once we’re on the road?”
Chance shifted again in his seat, that damnable leather molding against his ass. Allen couldn’t help staring. Forget the chocolate sauce; he’d just like to throw Chance down and lick him without condiments.
Allen’s erection agreed. Behave! he scolded himself.
If his cock had been capable, Allen knew it would have laughed at him. He grimly acknowledged the surge of blood to his prick as inescapable, repositioned himself once more and turned the key in the ignition. “Okay. Heading out now. You navigate and tell me where to turn.”
Chance nodded demurely, then added, in that too-tempting voice, “Yes.” He rubbed Spot’s nose again, smiling gently as the dog lapped his fingers. “Sit, Spot. Sit.”
“Good dog,” Allen wasn’t able to stop himself from saying. At Chance’s puzzled expression, he qualified his statement. “You know, like Ubu? Sit, Ubu, sit? Good dog?”
Chance frowned and shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” Allen said, feeling glum and old. But, hey, a little unbridgeable culture gap was all to the good, right? If Chance didn’t get his jokes, it was a fair bet that Chance wouldn’t get him either. No getting of Chance. The logic was flawless.
Allen shifted gears and began to drive. A thick fog was settling over Charleston in the evening as the air outside cooled, making it increasingly difficult to see as he manipulated his car in and out of traffic. He spared a devout prayer of thanks to whichever saint took care of men in trouble that Chance was quiet except for an occasional “turn here” and “turn there, after the stoplight.”
His cock decided it wasn’t happy with the lack of conversation. It wanted more of Chance, to say nothing of some additional physical contact, and it nudged upward insistently as if to draw Allen’s attention to his condition. Allen resisted the urge to thwap himself. One, because it would hurt like hell. He knew this much from past experience. Two, because it would draw Chance’s attention to his burgeoning hard-on, and that wouldn’t do in all kinds of ways. Oh, no.
Hell, he didn’t even know for sure that Chance was gay. Gay and interested in a man like Allen. There wasn’t any kind of magical Rainbow Connection going to happen between them. Not lovers, possibly dreamers -- damn it -- but just him. Driving a client home. See? I can be good, even if certain parts of my anatomy disagree.
Shame to waste a hard-on, though, wasn’t it? At thirty-seven, Allen prided himself on his stamina, usually able to get it up on demand, but there were nights when his trusty right hand wasn’t enough to ease the tension.
He’d thought about buying some kind of simulation sex toy, then discarded the idea because he knew he’d end up laughing his ass off at the fake... well. And that didn’t go a long way when it came to improving the mood even when you were by your lonesome.
Which he was beginning to wish he was. Chance just couldn’t seem to sit still for the life of him, consta
ntly moving one part of his body or another. Restlessly bouncing his leg, foot making a soft staccato rhythm on the floorboard, leaning up to peer through the low-visibility air, or crossing his arms over his chest and then uncertainly lowering them to his sides. Even his gorgeous, shiny, pettable hair spilled over his shoulders and chest, moving as if it were alive.
The urge to reach over, thrust his hand through those fantastic locks and pull Chance to him for a good hard kiss was getting -- harder. So were other parts of Allen, despite his chiding. Before long, he had a full-blown erection, one that got more and more demanding as he began to pick up Chance’s scent -- light, natural, woodsy.
Allen paused for a brief second to imagine, against his will, burrowing in against the inviting little curve where neck met shoulder... and nearly rear-ended a Buick. He cursed and swerved, ignoring the indignant honk and the flashed finger sent in his direction.
Blasted if Allen couldn’t feel Chance’s curious and intent stare on him after that.
“I’m... sorry,” the young man said after an awkward pause. “This is really putting you to a lot of trouble.”
“No problem,” Allen lied. “Happy to help.” Good, he was back on mostly single syllables. Then again, that could just mean his brain wasn’t functioning well enough to manage the big words.
Sex now? his cock begged hopefully. Allen sighed.
“Are you sure?” Chance shifted in his seat so that he was likely looking full-on at Allen’s profile. Allen felt the querying weight of Chance’s gaze taking him in, from tousled brown hair to the glasses he’d worn for the road to his chicken-dancing tie. “I don’t want to be a bother. I could... I don’t know... get out and walk?”
Allen managed a laugh, one that sounded friendly to his own ears. “How much further?” Not that he’d actually put Chance out of his car before the guy was safely home...
Spot barked sharply. “Easy,” Allen murmured. “Calm down, big guy.”
Spot gave a low growl as if to protest a stranger chastising him.
Chance twisted around, probably to glare into the backseat. “Spot, behave!” He turned back and those eyes were focused on Allen again with a load of contrition, as Allen saw with a quick sidelong peek. “He’s not usually like this. He’s so friendly, and he loves to play and, oh, God, he’s going to ruin all this nice leather in your backseat... I’m so sorry.” Chance’s hand came out to rest on Allen’s upper arm. “Let us out. I can’t believe I didn’t think about his nails and this upholstery.”
Allen cleared his throat a few times. Every instinct he had was telling him to pull away from Chance. Hadn’t he learned his lesson about the young ones, Joey being a case in point? Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t seem to make Chance move, or bring himself to shrug Chance off.
“Honest.” Chance’s hand moved slowly away. Even without looking, Allen knew that the finger would be coming up to twine in Chance’s sunshine hair. He bit his own lip hard. God, it should be illegal for a guy to be that innocently appealing.
Made him feel like a dirty old man.
Allen made a noncommittal noise. “It’s not far, is it? Does Spot need to be let out to take a walk?”
“He should be okay. And it’s not too far now,” Chance admitted. “But this is the tricky part. Take the fork to the left and keep turning left every chance you get.”
“That’s... an interesting set of directions.” Allen frowned. “Aren’t we going to be going in circles eventually?”
“I told you it was kind of complicated,” Chance apologized. He moved again in his seat, the leather sighing against his skin, just the way Allen would like to... Damn. “Honest, I don’t want to be a bother.”
The car’s tires crunched on gravel. “No, it’s fine,” Allen managed to say. The air in the car was getting close and uncomfortable. He slipped a hand out to his left and cranked the handle that lowered his window a few inches. Fresh, cool, wonderful breezes drifted through the crack, cooling Allen down considerably. He took a deep breath, savoring the lack of city smells.
Chance seemed to like it, too, as well as Spot. Both perked up and then relaxed, Spot giving a satisfied whine before retreating firmly to the backseat. The dog muttered to himself a few times, his trimmed nails pattering on the leather as he likely got busy settling himself down into a comfortable position. Allen took a peek in the rearview mirror and saw that the dog had indeed done so, pillowing his muzzle on his paws. Spot gave a whoof of contentment and closed his eyes.
“He’s a good dog,” Allen said without meaning to. But then -- if he was in for that dad-blasted penny, he might as well be in for the whole freaking pound, damn it -- he went on. “You’re lucky. Most dogs tied out on stakes wouldn’t be this well-behaved. You must have been treating him right.”
Allen would have sworn that the smile he knew was suddenly there lit up his car by a few dozen watts. “Thanks,” Chance said, seemingly shy again. “He’s my big buddy. Spot keeps me company when...” The light dimmed a bit. “I’ve never had a pet before. I keep thinking I’ll do something wrong.”
“Not with this guy.” Allen took his second left turn. Honesty appeared to be on the menu, the wisdom of it notwithstanding. Besides, he couldn’t be a vet and not appreciate a responsible pet owner. “You give him healthy food, right? Fresh water in his bowl when it runs dry? Got a soft spot for him to sleep?”
The lighting went up again. “I do. He has his own, and sometimes he sleeps on my bed. ’Cause I don’t... I mean, I’m still... I haven’t been here but about a year. And my brothers, they’re not... well, I haven’t met anyone.” Allen startled as Chance’s fingers came out again to brush not his arm, but his thigh. “Until now?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
Throw the brakes on right there, the last rational corner of Allen’s mind demanded. Do not, I repeat, do not start letting this kid think you’re interested in him. Lie. Lie like a rug on the floor. Push his hand off your leg. You have no idea if it’s going to start wandering. Bad hand!
Allen groaned softly. He immediately realized he shouldn’t have done so when Chance’s hand tensed on his thigh. “Allen? You’re okay, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. Fine and dandy.”
“I know you’re fine, Allen,” Chance whispered. “Dr. Michaels.”
Allen was aware he really shouldn’t be as turned on as he was by the title. But fuck if Chance couldn’t recite the alphabet or a grocery list and still sound like he was begging to be pushed on his back with his cock and his ass saluting the sky.
Deciding he’d better stop before he accidentally crashed into a tree, Allen slowed his car down and put it in “park.” Chance’s touch lightened.
“Is something wrong?”
Allen managed a small laugh, the sound tight in his throat. Answering Chance honestly would no doubt be very, very stupid. But if he couldn’t provide frankness, what was he left with?
“You don’t want me to get out and walk, do you?” Chance’s voice roughened a little; it was still a sweet, light tenor but now it took on a note that sent that rational crumb of Allen’s mind screaming and the rest of him perking up like a dog on a... bone.
“Er-- I-- um--”
“You like this,” Chance continued, strengthening his caress. He kneaded Allen’s leg like an overgrown cat. A little clumsy on the execution, but there could be no denying the intention.
Allen took a deep breath and turned to face Chance for the first time since he’d started driving. Chance’s pretty eyes were fixed on Allen’s, hypnotically blue and deep enough to drown in. Framed as they were by his marvelous hair, he looked like a fallen angel who’d enjoyed the trip down.
“You like this,” Chance repeated, moving his hand a little further up. “I can smell you.”
Huh? Allen shrugged off the second part of the other man’s statement and tried to backpedal. “Look, Chance, I know you’re probably grateful to me for taking care of your dog and giving you a ride and everything but, honest, you don’t have to--�
�
“Shh,” Chance whispered. He lifted his hand only long enough to undo his seatbelt. The click set off alarm bells and buzzers in Allen’s mind, but he could only watch, captivated, as Chance moved in his seat so that he had most of his weight on one hip. The younger man glanced up and licked his lips, wetting them. “This isn’t about thanking you. Can’t you feel it? Since I first saw you in the clinic, I’ve...” He shook his head. “May I? Please?”
Allen’s self-control wavered over that final step. “Chance, you really don’t have to. I promise.”
“But I want to.” Chance looked at him beseechingly. “I like you, Allen. Dr. Michaels.”
“If you call me that one more time, I’m probably going to--”
“Drag me out of the car?” Chance wet his lower lip a second time, the pink tip of his tongue sliding temptingly across the slightly darker skin. “Throw me up against the side and turn me around?”
“Chance,” Allen managed around a thick throat. “Don’t offer unless you mean it.”
“I do,” Chance said firmly. His hand wandered to Allen’s crotch -- no hiding the insistent erection now. Chance cupped Allen’s cock, which let Allen know Chance was there, male, and definitely interested. “Let me. Please?”
“Chance...”
“Yes,” Chance murmured, and Allen knew he was lost.
As if he were someone else, Allen watched Chance’s long fingers, the fingers of an artist, nimbly unbutton his slacks and draw the zipper down. He danced over the bulge in Allen’s jockey shorts, his touch light as a breath of air but doing unbelievable things to Allen’s thundering libido. “Say no if you don’t want this,” Chance offered softly. “If you really don’t want this.”
Allen knew what he should say. Really, he did. But God help him if he could speak up with any kind of denial. His body answered for him, his hand going to touch that hair, all that glorious hair, at long last. It felt as soft and silky as it looked, with the exception of one slightly rough spot -- the lock Chance must have the habit of twining and twirling. Allen’s hips hitched up slightly, bucking his cock into Chance’s hand. A small moan escaped him.
