by Riley Hart
“That wasn’t for your dick. It was for your fingering skills, obviously. You were there last night, right?”
Quinn was stalling, but for some reason, Miles let him. “So there’s a lot of dick but not fingers?”
“Not as good as yours, baby.” Quinn winked at him, and the friendly gesture made Miles’s gut flip.
“Why did you want me to stay?”
“Why do you care so much?”
That was a good question, and one Miles planned to dissect at a later date when he was alone. “I’m nosy, now tell me.”
“You’re cocky and bossy.”
“True.” Miles knew exactly who he was. He also knew it didn’t bother Quinn at all.
Quinn sighed, pushed a hand through his brown hair, making it even more mussed than it had been, before lifting his cup and taking another drink. “You’re spoiled and too used to getting your way. I don’t know why I feel the need to give it to you. I think you cast some sort of spell on me.”
Miles grinned, walked over and cupped Quinn’s cheek. His brain told him to keep his distance, but he stood there touching him anyway. “No spell. You just like my cock, and you also enjoy the fact that I’m bossy. You like being told what to do.”
Quinn just shrugged. “It can be hot.” He sat back, so Miles’s hand fell away, groaned and said, “I grew up in foster care. I was kind of a dick back then—angry at the world. Hey, I was like you!” He tried to joke, but Miles didn’t respond. He couldn’t laugh. His body was too rigid…too tight.
“One home or numerous?”
“More than I can count on both hands,” Quinn admitted.
A million questions hammered into Miles’s brain—what had happened to Quinn’s parents? How old had he been? But he kept his lips tight, refusing to let them open up and try to pluck even more information out of Quinn.
“Some people decided they didn’t like me. They waited until I was asleep to show me how much and because of that, sometimes I struggle sleeping alone, but I’m also really fucking picky about who I sleep with. I don’t owe you any more than that. Hell, I didn’t owe you that much. You should be thankful I like cocky and bossy so much.”
He was trying to be funny, but again Miles couldn’t laugh. He wasn’t sure he could do much of anything right now but concentrate on what Quinn had said to him. A burning sensation started in his stomach and blazed its way up his esophagus. He wished he had his coffee in his hand, so he could take a drink to distract himself and also to kill the taste in his throat.
Quinn was leery who he let his guard down with enough to sleep…yet he’d done it with Miles. Both before and now.
For the first time in his life, he almost wanted to talk, to question. To dig deeper into another person, but there was a stronger part of him that made him take a step back. This made things feel like more than a random fuck, which isn’t what either of them needed or wanted.
“I had no right to push you. You didn’t owe me anything, and I apologize for forcing the issue. I should go.”
Quinn tsked and shook his head. Miles could tell he wouldn’t like what was coming next. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
What surprised Miles was how he’d had to force himself to speak those words. How he’d had to force himself to say he needed to go. That he felt an unexplainable connection to Quinn from the beginning and those few lines he’d given Miles about his past might explain why. They made Miles feel tangled up, tied to Quinn in a strange way he would likely never admit. He wanted to know more about Quinn, about his story. Wanted to know if there were any similarities to his own.
Miles turned and headed for Quinn’s room. Quinn sighed behind him, and Miles knew he had followed.
“It’s not a big deal. Don’t make it out to be more than it is. It doesn’t mean I fell for you and now I’ll never be the same without you. Last night was a moment of weakness…and maybe a little post-orgasmic bliss.”
Miles pulled his shoes on. “I don’t think you fell for me.” But things did feel…different. He went into the bathroom, grabbed his shirt, despite the come stain still on it. You could see the spot from Quinn’s come and part of the wet area from where Miles had rinsed it.
“So you really did fall for me…wow…I don’t know what to say. I appreciate the gesture but—”
Damn it. Miles had to bite back his grin. Why did this man get to him so much? Why were his jokes more endearing than annoying? “I didn’t fall for you, and you know it. Stop saying that. I’m leaving because it’s time to go.”
He pulled his shirt over his head, and Quinn’s eyes got big. “Fuck, I really shot.”
“That’s because no one is as good at pleasuring an ass as I am.” And damned if Miles didn’t find himself grinning. Fucker. Quinn had him feeling a whiplash of different emotions, and he really didn’t understand why.
He groaned because now all he wanted to do was slide those sweats down Quinn’s legs and have a go at him again. Instead, he turned and walked through the door.
“Yeah, I remember,” Quinn told him. “Then why are you leaving? I owe you an orgasm…or even if you don’t want one, I’ll be glad to let you give me another.”
Miles stopped with his hand on the doorknob, his forehead against the door. “I have to go.” Why did he have to leave? And why was it he’d only seen Quinn on two different occasions and both times he had to continually remind himself that he needed to leave?
Without letting himself think about what he was doing, he whipped around, grabbed Quinn’s wrist. Pulled him closer, turned them, so Quinn’s back was against the door. His mouth went down hard on Quinn’s. His tongue pushed past Quinn’s lips and tasted coffee and vanilla and fuck, his dick was hard. He gave Quinn a bruising kiss, a possessive kiss because he suddenly felt like he’d lost some of his own control. This was the only way Miles knew how to get it back.
Before he lost his head, pulled Quinn’s sweats down, and had him right there by the door, he jerked away. “I have to go.” There he was saying that again. Now it was time to follow through.
Quinn stepped aside, and Miles opened the door. He made it partway down the hallway when Quinn called out, “What’s your last name?”
Miles stopped…considered not responding…but he did. “Sorenson.” Then added, “You?”
“Barker.”
It wasn’t until Miles heard Quinn’s door close that he began walking again. That he let himself admit Quinn intrigued him. That he might like spending time with him. That hearing what Quinn told him, he’d felt like he really had something in common with someone in his personal life, in a way he’d never had with Chase, Matt, or Ollie.
Miles didn’t know how to feel about that.
CHAPTER SIX
“You look tired, Miles. Are you sleeping enough? You’re not working yourself to death, are you? Your father does that, though it’s not like I have to tell you.” His mother stood at the sink, washing vegetables for dinner. She was a beautiful woman. She had platinum blond hair, which was always styled, and crystal blue eyes. Her makeup was always done and her nails always painted. She exercised daily.
She wasn’t only beautiful on the outside, but on the inside as well. When Miles was young, she volunteered in his classrooms, and like Chance and Ollie, he always went to the best schools and had the best things. She donated money and ran fundraisers. When Miles first came out as bisexual, she became the GLADD mom and worked with other LGBTQ causes. Her passion was children in need, which likely began when she couldn’t have children of her own.
Miles was one of those children she helped. She said when she first heard about him, only a few days old, her heart broke. When she first laid eyes on him, she knew he was meant to be hers.
He would be thankful to his parents every day of his life for adopting him. That didn’t mean that sometimes when he looked at them, he didn’t wish he could see a little more of himself.
Not so much now, but when he was a kid. He might have grown up in Los Angeles, but
there was a time in elementary school when he was one of only three black kids. No child wanted to feel different, yet he almost always had.
“Miles?” his mom asked again, and he frowned, surprised he’d spaced off like that. It must have been hearing Quinn’s story earlier, discovering he hadn’t been raised by his biological parents either. But unlike Quinn, Miles had a family who loved him. A family he loved. He was grateful as hell for that.
“I’m not working any more than I usually do. I’m not working as much as Dad does. I was out with Ollie, Chance, and Matt last night. I didn’t sleep well after that.” Because Quinn had asked him to stay…because Quinn had needed him and that was a new experience for him. One that hadn’t left his mind since.
She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “You boys…I swear. Are you ever going to outgrow your Friday night routine?”
He hoped not. They were among the few people that Miles felt truly at home with. Among the few people he trusted. “Maybe, eventually. But where’s the fun in that?” he teased.
“No, I’m glad you still make time to see each other. Friendships are important. You’re all lucky to have one another. Vivian says Oliver and Matt are doing well. That they’re happy.” She turned the water off and began drying the vegetables. Miles’s parents were close to Oliver’s mom and dad. Chance’s family, as well. Their parents all talked nearly as much as Miles, Oliver, and Chance did.
“Yeah, they’re disgustingly happy.”
She carried her cutting board and food over to the island.
“Here, let me help.” Miles washed his hands and then met her at the center of the large kitchen. She pulled out utensils for him, and the two of them began to chop zucchini and squash.
“There’s nothing disgusting about being happy. You’ll fall in love at some point as well, even though I doubt you believe it. It might have to be with Chance, since Oliver and Matt are taken, and I’m pretty sure you struggle to let yourself trust anyone other than those three.” She cocked a blond brow at him. His mother knew him well. Miles was close to both of his parents, which was why he didn’t try to deny it—well, not the trust part. “Chance is like a brother to me, so it looks like I’ll just have to stay single.”
“You try to pretend you’re so growly, but I know my son. Really you’re a big softie.”
“I’m incredibly growly, I’ll have you know,” he teased, and she laughed. They had fun together, the two of them. They always had. Where Miles could cook with his mom, laugh with her and talk to her about life, he and his father were both cutthroat attorneys at the same firm and sometimes a little too obsessed with their jobs. Case in point, his father wasn’t home at the moment, and it was a Saturday.
If Miles weren’t here, he would likely be working as well.
Miles and his mom finished cooking dinner together. Just as they pulled it out of the oven, his dad came home.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he made his way into the kitchen. His dad kissed his mom on the cheek and then gave Miles a hug. “Hey, son. I’m glad you came tonight. I wanted to run something by you later. I’m doing some research on a case, and I’d love your opinion.”
Miles’s chest swelled. It meant a lot to him that his dad cared what he thought, that he asked for Miles’s help. He was incredible at what he did, yet he never acted as though he was better than anyone else, and he never hesitated to speak with Miles if he needed a second opinion.
“Of course. No problem.”
“Thanks.” He gave Miles a kind smile and then ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair. “I’ll set the table.”
Miles helped his father, and then the three of them sat down to dinner together. They laughed and talked. When they were finished, Miles went into his father’s office with him, and they spent a good hour in there as well.
As he drove back to his apartment, his mind shifted to Quinn again. About how light and carefree he was, except for that moment when he’d asked Miles to stay last night and when he’d briefly told Miles what happened. He thought about how different they were…how Quinn was much more open than he was. Then he wondered if there had ever been a time in his life, even if only for a few weeks or months, when he’d felt the same kind of love Miles did from a family. If he’d ever felt like he’d had a family of his own, and for the first time, he wondered why he was the way he was. Why he wanted to be considered growly and why he cut himself off from people when he should be spending every day thanking his lucky stars for what he had.
*
“Shit,” Quinn groaned as he tested some aspects of a new game they were working on. “Something is up with this level. I don’t like the flow of it, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.”
“See? That’s what I thought too. It’s too jumpy. Like it doesn’t make sense. It’s random,” his best friend Christian said as they video Skyped. He used to live full time in Los Angeles but moved to Virginia with his boyfriend a while back. His boyfriend was a Motocross racer and spent part of his time in Southern California, and Christian had decided to go back and forth with him.
“Why you always copying me, boo?” Quinn teased him.
Christian rolled his eyes. “Because you’re my idol, of course. I want to be just like you, as does everyone else. No one is immune to your superiority.”
“Thank fuck you finally admitted it.” Quinn leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. Even though he couldn’t be happier for Christian, he missed having his friend here. They’d helped each other through some rough times. If Chris had been here, he wouldn’t have embarrassed himself with Miles the other night.
Jesus, he still couldn’t believe that.
“You just shook your head. Why did you shake your head?” Christian asked.
Damn it. “No reason.”
“Fuck you. There isn’t a chance you would let that go without prying. You should have just said, I have a headache or some bullshit excuse like that. Now I know you’re hiding something.”
“I have a headache,” Quinn lied, and they both laughed.
When things settled down, Christian asked, “I’m serious…are you okay? You’ve seemed a little down lately. Not like the obnoxious Quinn I know and love.”
“I resent that. I’m just as obnoxious as I’ve always been.” It was kind of his MO and Quinn was okay with that. People didn’t forget him. He made them laugh. That was really all he wanted.
“Are you sleeping okay?” Christian asked, not taking the bait.
Quinn sighed. “I had a little trouble, but then I jerked off into my jersey with your boyfriend’s name on it, and that helped.”
“I’m serious.”
He sighed because he knew Christian was serious. He also knew his friend wouldn’t let it go until they spoke about it, much like Quinn was with him.
He scratched his head and sighed as he eyed Christian through the computer screen. “I’m good. I promise you, boo. You know me. If I wasn’t, I would fly my ass there and squeeze in right between you and your man. I’ve had a couple of odd nights lately. I’m not sure why, but it prompted me to hook up with this really well-hung top, who fucked me till I passed out, so I can’t complain.” Or fingered his ass until he did. Honestly, a few days later, he was still a little embarrassed he’d blown his load that quickly.
Christian’s brows knitted together in concern. “Are you sure? We can—”
“Yes, I’m sure. Plus, it’s only nightmares. It’s about time I get over that, anyway. Now can we please talk about you? Or this game you need to figure out because I’m putting this shit on you.”
Christian laughed again, but Quinn could tell he didn’t feel it. They talked about the game a little more before they ended the Skype.
Quinn rummaged around the office and did a few more things at work before he left the office. Luckily, it was right up the street from his apartment, so he always walked back and forth. On the way, Quinn stopped at Hamburger Mary’s and grabbed a quick bite to eat.
/> When he got back to his place, he fucked around with some graphics on a game he was working on but got bored quickly. He thought about calling a friend to hang out or pull up Grindr, but instead, he found himself typing Miles Sorenson into his search bar.
It popped up with his site and also numerous articles touting his success. He flipped through some of them. “Jesus, baby boy. You’re fucking good.” Not that he’d had a doubt in his mind that Miles was good at what he did. He was a proud man, that was for sure, and he had this…almost air of superiority about him. Not in a way that made him a dickhead, but like he was one of those people who were just good at everything they did. Like he had success sewn into his DNA, even though Quinn knew he had secrets too.
He clicked on a few of the articles and read about the sexy, bossy top who had him spilling his private life almost as easily as Miles had made him spill his come. The third one spoke about Miles and his father, who was also an attorney. It had a picture of the two men together that unexplainably had his pulse speeding up.
Miles’s father was white, and Miles most definitely was not. It wasn’t as though that mattered or as if it should have come as a huge shock. One of the things he loved most about Los Angeles was the diversity and how many different families you found here but he would be lying if he didn’t admit it made him curious. If it didn’t make him wonder about Miles’s story. Miles clearly had a family and Quinn never had, but from the first night they spent together, he’d felt a connection with Miles. Like neither of them were as grounded as they wanted people to believe, as they wanted to believe themselves, and maybe this was why.
Quinn, the stalker that he was becoming, exited the page and clicked on the site for his office. From there, he went to the contact page. He thought for a moment. It wasn’t likely that Miles checked this email himself, so he would have to be careful in what he said. Part of him figured he shouldn’t be messaging at all, but who the hell listened to logic? Quinn didn’t.
Mr. Sorenson,
