by Riley Hart
Quinn chuckled. Jesus, Miles was a cocky bastard. Like Quinn had nothing better to do with his time than to go to a bar just to see Miles? “Do you think I’m stalking you? I mean, there was that one time I sat outside your bedroom window, but…”
He saw a small smile tease Miles’s lips. His skin was a rich brown, his eyes a shade or two lighter. He had a square jaw and buzzed black hair, and a thick, muscular body that Quinn had quite enjoyed. If he was honest, he wouldn’t mind enjoying it again.
“You would have to know where I live for that,” Miles replied.
“But I’m a stalker remember? Hell, maybe I knew everything about you before you even walked into the bar that first night…or maybe it was a coincidence as is tonight. There are only so many gay bars, even in West Hollywood, and even if I knew you came here, doesn’t mean I couldn’t come without it being for you.”
“You came a lot for me that weekend.” His voice was deep and smooth as honey.
“Check you out, trying to distract me from the fact that you came down this hallway hoping I’d follow. Why don’t we cut to the chase and you tell me where to meet you tonight?” He’d learned during the one weekend they spent together that Miles always cut to the chase, and Quinn had no problem doing that as well.
He could have sworn he saw a bloom of desire burst in Miles’s eyes, and damned if his dick didn’t like that. He’d always had a weakness for pretty, distant boys.
“You think so, huh?” Miles asked.
“Are you really going to pretend otherwise? I didn’t figure you the type.”
“What type is that?” Miles questioned.
“Coward,” he replied, hoping to get what he wanted. He wasn’t sure what it was about Miles that intrigued him so much—or maybe it wasn’t intrigue and just horniness. Or a combination of the two.
Miles’s lips stretched into a thick grin. “Remember, I really do know where you live. Be there in an hour.” And then he pushed his way around Quinn and disappeared into the crowd again.
CHAPTER TWO
The Weekend
“This is fucking stupid.” Miles pushed out of bed, Quinn’s beige, patterned blanket getting tangled around his feet. Roughly he kicked out of it, went to the en suite attached to Quinn’s room, took a quick piss, and washed his hands. He took longer than need be, stalling, of course, but seriously, what the fuck was this? Why was Quinn asking him shit like this? He turned the faucet off before turning around to see a naked Quinn leaning against the headboard. They’d spent most of the weekend naked like that. It’s what their time together was about, after all.
Quinn’s dick wasn’t hard. It lay soft, against his thigh. The man had a sexy fucking body, long, lean with defined muscles. His small, dark brown nipples were hard, his skin pale, chest and face both smooth. Those fucking lips, though. Jesus, Miles had never seen anything like it. He wanted them wrapped around the root of his cock.
“You’re weird,” he finally said, fully aware that he probably could have come up with a better reply than that. Damn it. He hated feeling off his game.
“No, I’m drunk. You’re the one who had me pull out that bottle of Patrón. Alcohol makes me a talky fucker.”
Quinn seemed to always be a talky fucker. The alcohol was a shitty excuse.
“And maybe it is stupid, but you’re going to humor me because you’ll likely want to fuck me again.”
Well…he had Miles there… “Oh I am, am I?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Can we not pretend you don’t want it just as much as I do? I can have you begging for it in no time flat.” He wasn’t exaggerating either. They both liked it when Quinn begged.
“Yeah, I love your cock, but I’m also a stubborn motherfucker. You give me what I want; then we’ll both get what we want.” Quinn crooked his finger at Miles, calling him over like they were in a cheesy movie or something. He couldn’t help but smile.
Miles had no idea how they’d gone from just fucking to Quinn attempting to really talk to him, but they seemed to be there. This sure as hell wasn’t typically how his hookups went.
None of those other nights turned conversations beyond “top or bottom? I only fuck with a Jimmy, and poppers don’t fly with me.”
But then Quinn gave him a drunk, dopey smile and he found himself asking, “What was the question again?” even though he knew it. He leaned against the dresser, with his arms crossed, and waited. He wasn’t supposed to be the one doing what Quinn said. It was supposed to be the other way around.
“Tell me something you wish you had the balls to do, but don’t.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “Nothing. If I want to do something, I do it.” He just wasn’t a guy who wanted much. Anything he could desire, he had. Well, that wasn’t true, was it? There was one thing he sometimes wished he could do but he never would. It was a foolish dream, anyway.
“You’re thinking. I can see the wheels turning… Do I want to tell Quinn this or not? Will I still be the gorgeous as fuck, brooding dude who oozes sex, if I say something that really matters? The answer is yes, by the way.”
Goddamn Quinn. Miles began to crack a smile. He shook his head, sighed and said, “I’m serious. If I want something, I do it. Why deny myself?”
Quinn frowned, then rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll come up with a different question. Hmmm.” He tapped his forehead and Miles found himself smiling again. Quinn was so fucking ridiculous. He never saw himself enjoying it but then, it was for one weekend so why not?
“I got it. This is a good one. You’re going to hate me for it.”
“And that’s good?” Miles asked.
“It’s fun.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You’re trying to distract me, and I won’t fall for it. Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.”
Miles shook his head. “Getting a little deep, aren’t we? Plus, I would have nothing to tell you, even if I wanted to. My friends know everything there is to know about me. If they didn’t, why would I tell you? Someone I don’t really know.”
Quinn cocked a brow at him. “For the very reason you just said, sexy. Because you don’t know me. You’ll never see me again. There’s a safeness in that. You can say something without having to worry about what the other person thinks because to you, I’m nothing but some guy you spent a weekend fucking.”
Those words rubbed at Miles’s skin in a strange way. They shouldn’t. That’s exactly who Quinn was to him. Now he was the one being ridiculous.
But then…there was a part of what Quinn said that made sense. He wouldn’t have to look Quinn in the eyes again. He wouldn’t have to wonder what he thought of him. And even in the short amount of time that Miles had known Quinn, it was obvious he didn’t give up easily. He would pester Miles until Miles told him what he wanted to know. Either that or their weekend would be over.
Miles’s dick wasn’t ready for the weekend to be over. Maybe there was another small part of him that wasn’t ready either.
“I can’t think of anything,” he finally answered.
“Think harder.”
“Aren’t I supposed to be the bossy one here?” He was pretty sure they both liked it that way.
“Again, then tell me what I want to know and then make me be your good boy.”
Desire pricked along Miles’s skin. He wanted that. He really fucking wanted it.
Miles thought for a moment, even though he really didn’t need to. He knew exactly what he would say…and it might feel good too. Feel good to tell someone who didn’t know his past or understand the why of it.
“When I was younger, I used to sneak out of my house and take a bus downtown, skid row, places like that. When I turned sixteen and didn’t have to sneak out, I would take my car, but I never told anyone where I was going.”
His words sounded hollow like they echoed somehow. He couldn’t believe they were coming out of his mouth at all.
Quinn’s brows pulled together. He was obviously tryi
ng to figure Miles out—the same way Miles was trying to figure out why he was really telling Quinn this.
“What would you do there?”
Miles took a deep breath and looked toward the floor. “Walk. I would walk up and down areas the homeless frequented. I would look at all the people. Look at their faces. Their eyes. Sometimes I would bring them food. Other times I would just walk…watch.” Search.
“That doesn’t sound very safe.”
Was it Miles or was there a scratchiness to Quinn’s voice that hadn’t been there before?
“They’re just people, and I’m obviously fine.”
“I know they’re just people. I’m the last person you have to remind of that.”
There was a story there, in Quinn’s voice and what he said, the same way there was a story behind what Miles was saying. They wouldn’t share them, though. Miles knew he wouldn’t and didn’t believe Quinn would either.
Quinn’s hand moved to his crotch, then. It wasn’t meant to be sexual, his finger so fucking close to his dick, but it was sexual as hell for Miles. His prick started to get hard.
Quinn’s eyes caught his. His brows rose, as if in question, likely seeing the desire in Miles’s stare. He was done talking. He hadn’t come here to talk.
“Enough talking.” Miles walked over to the bed, stood beside Quinn. “You sore?” he asked.
“Little bit.”
He’d already taken Quinn twice today.
“Then I guess I get your dick in my mouth.”
“What if I want yours in mine?” Quinn asked.
“Maybe I’ll let you later. Right now, I get what I want.”
Quinn’s cock filled with blood and a smile grew on those sexy fucking lips of his.
Miles kneeled on the bed and got to work, trying to forget what he’d just told Quinn and how it almost made him feel connected to him.
CHAPTER THREE
Miles sat in his car in front of Quinn’s apartment and reconsidered going in. He didn’t like how Quinn had assumed he wanted to hook up with him again and now here he was, sitting outside of Quinn’s place proving him right.
Then he remembered he’d get an orgasm out of the deal, and hell, who didn’t want an orgasm? Of course, he wanted to hook up with Quinn again, so Miles stepped out of his black Lexus, hit the lock on his key fob, and made his way toward the building.
He’d been the first one to bow out of Wild Side tonight, which was unusual. He had no doubt his friends knew he was leaving to meet up with someone. They probably even assumed it was Quinn by the way they’d looked at each other all night, but it was only Matt who he still thought might know that Miles had met him before. Even if he hadn’t asked, the way he’d looked at Miles curiously told him that.
It shouldn’t matter if he was heading over to fuck someone he already had before. He didn’t know why it did, and maybe in some ways, it didn’t. He was making a big deal out of things he shouldn’t worry about which wasn’t usually the way Miles worked. Fucking Quinn.
So he forced those thoughts aside, concentrated on his dick, lifted his arm and knocked on the door. He hardly pulled his hand away before it pulled open.
“I didn’t think you’d show,” Quinn said.
Yeah, he hadn’t been sure either, but he didn’t like that Quinn thought the same thing. It felt too close. Or fuck, like he was predictable. “Why would I skip out on sex?”
It was a good question. One he’d asked himself when he considered not coming.
Quinn stepped aside, and Miles entered the apartment. “I highly doubt I’m the only man you could have gotten sex from tonight,” Quinn answered and damn it, Miles didn’t like the reply.
There was the truth at why this bothered him. Quinn wasn’t the only person he could fuck. He could have picked up someone else at Wild Side. He could have gone home with Julio or hit up Grindr or Scruff. He didn’t have to leave and meet up with the guy he’d spent a weekend with months before. He didn’t have to go down a hallway, knowing Quinn would follow and that they’d possibly end up right where they were.
“Eh,” Miles shrugged as he heard the door close behind him. “You’re easy, and I know you’re good.” That’s what he was going with.
Quinn chuckled. “Well, that’s true. My ass is a thing of miracles, and my mouth is fucking incredible too. I’m just as good with my dick, but you know from experience, I’d rather bottom.”
Miles cocked a brow at him. “And you know from experience, I’d rather top.”
“You want a drink?” Quinn asked.
“I want your ass,” Miles replied.
“You’ll get it.”
Miles watched as Quinn walked into his kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of scotch off the counter. As he poured two glasses, Miles looked around the apartment. It looked exactly how it did the last time he was here—the L-shaped desk, multiple computers and equipment, and Miles knew he had another desk with even more in his bedroom.
There was a T-shirt on the back of his dark blue couch. Multiple video game systems were hooked up to the TV mounted to his wall. He had framed images of video games he’d created on his walls. Two glasses and a plate rested by his computer.
“Do you work from home?” Miles found himself asking as Quinn handed him a drink. He swished the liquid around in the glass as he waited for Quinn to reply.
“Yes and no. I have an office downtown, but I spend a lot of time working, so I do a lot from here, as well.” Quinn carried his glass and the bottle with him as he walked over to the couch. He set both down on the coffee table, then lowered down to the couch.
Miles sighed, almost asked why they were sitting instead of screwing, but instead found himself following and taking a seat beside him. Something felt a little off with Quinn tonight, and he didn’t know what it was. The strange part was, he didn’t only get the feeling from Quinn, he felt it himself as well. This felt…comfortable. Familiar. “Your apartment looks like it’s lived in by a fourteen-year-old kid.” Miles took a long swallow of the scotch. It tasted good—a sweet burn to it, so he took another drink. Quinn did the same.
“I can only guess what your place looks like… Hmmm.” He poured more of the dark brown liquid into his glass and then sat back against the couch. “I’m going to go with dark…not vampire dark but brooding, I-have-no-heart dim.”
Miles chuckled. Damn it. He was pretty close. “Go on.”
Before he spoke again, he drank more of his scotch. Miles watched his throat move as he swallowed, and damn, it made him even more eager to have his dick in Quinn’s mouth. He’d let Quinn play a little before he ravaged him.
“I bet you don’t have a lot of personal items on display—no pictures of friends or family, nothing that shows what you’re passionate about. What are you passionate about, by the way?”
“I’m a lawyer,” he admitted. He couldn’t remember if he’d shared that with Quinn before. “I like things in order. I’m passionate about control and sex. Are we on a dating site, here? This would be where I’d mention long walks on the beach and shit like that?” If those things appealed to Miles, that was.
“You probably hate the beach.” There was a glint in Quinn’s eyes that said he was teasing.
“I do not hate the beach. I look good in a Speedo.” But he did kind of hate the beach. He just didn’t want Quinn to know that.
Quinn’s eyes darted down at Miles’s dick. “I have no doubt you do.”
Quinn emptied his glass. Miles put his to his lips and did the same. The energy in the room changed. It snapped with electricity as he saw Quinn’s kind eyes haze over with lust. This was it. This was what he came here for.
“You want it, don’t you?” Miles asked and then cupped his bulge. Damn if Miles didn’t want it too. His cock hardened, already aching with the need to squeeze inside Quinn’s tight ass. “Tell me you want it, Quinn.”
“You know I do, you cocky son of a bitch. You know how to lay the good pipe, remember?”
Miles lost count of
how many times he’d chuckled since he’d come here. He plucked the glass from Quinn’s hand and then set them both on the coffee table. The second he did, their mouths clashed together like two magnets, their opposite poles too close to deny the connection.
Their teeth clanked together. Quinn wrapped his arms around Miles, and Miles threaded his fingers through Quinn’s hair, tugging on it the way he remembered Quinn liking.
They were fast and furious. All hunger and need as Miles’s tongue pushed into Quinn’s mouth and Quinn moaned into Miles’s, and goddamn it, he wanted nothing more than to sink his dick deep into Quinn’s ass.
He pushed to his feet, his cock so damn hard it hurt. Miles pulled Quinn with him, and their lips attacked one another’s again as they made out, stumbling toward the hallway.
Quinn grunted when Miles backed him into the wall. He laughed against Miles’s mouth, and a smile tugged at his own lips. He kissed Quinn deeper, fumbled with the button and zipper on Quinn’s pants.
He shoved Quinn’s pants down, and Quinn kicked out of them. Miles pulled back enough to push his finger into Quinn’s mouth. He sucked it with all he had and then let it go, and Miles slipped it between Quinn’s ass cheeks. When he rubbed his finger against Quinn’s tight hole, the other man shuddered against him. “Oh yeah. You’re starving for my cock, aren’t you?” He pushed the tip of his finger inside the first ring of muscle and then pulled it out again and rubbed Quinn’s pucker.
“Fuck yes… I’ve always had a weakness for pretty boys with big cocks.”
Quinn was a couple of inches shorter than him, thinner. Miles wrapped an arm around him. Pulled him close. Quinn’s legs immediately wrapped around Miles’s waist as he lifted him. Their mouths went at each other’s again—kissing, licking, sucking, biting like they were both wild animals, and were each other’s prey.
Miles pushed his finger inside Quinn again, fucked him with it as Quinn grunted and dropped his head back. Miles went at his throat, sucked the meaty spot where his neck met his shoulder and then teased it with his teeth.
