by Riley Hart
Quinn reached up, tried to grab the edge of the counter and knocked over anything in his way.
Miles just smiled and kept fucking and Quinn held on for dear life.
Every time Miles pushed in, he hit Quinn’s prostate just right.
When Miles leaned over him—his chest to Quinn’s back, pushing his hips into the edge of the counter, and pressed a kiss to Quinn’s temple—he fucking lost it. His balls let go and he shot all over—once, twice, three fucking times before Miles’s teeth teased his shoulder, then bit gently as he shuddered and groaned and came right along with Quinn.
They lay there, the shower still going, shaving cream and a toothbrush container knocked over, looking at each other in the mirror, both of them likely wondering what in the fuck was going on.
Just as Miles went to pull away, Quinn mumbled, “Fantastic, magnificent,” and earned a smile from Miles in return.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Quinn was passed out beside him, with his leg bent, and his knee against Miles. His cock was soft, resting in neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair. He had four bruises on each hip from where Miles had held on to him. His skin was pale—pale enough that Miles figured he needed to tease him about getting some sun. His mouth was slightly open as he breathed. His jawline brushed with stubble, and just looking at him, Miles could feel his cock begin to stir. He wanted to roll Quinn over, spread his ass cheeks and push his dick inside Quinn’s addicting little hole.
But he didn’t do that. Instead, he watched Quinn nap as he replayed their morning—the confusing vulnerability he had with this man. The connection he’d maybe created in his own fucking brain because there were millions of people in the world who’d been abandoned or been in foster care or adopted.
“Mmm. I’m hungry. Do you cook? I don’t cook. We can not cook together.” The weekend they’d spent together, Quinn had been low on any kind of food that didn’t go in the microwave or wasn’t a frozen meal, so they hadn’t gotten far enough to know if either one of them really cooked.
Quinn rolled over. Miles had his hand locked behind his head with his elbows bent, and Quinn nuzzled himself inside Miles’s armpit.
Miles rolled his eyes. “How do we eat if we not cook together?”
“Not cooking means cooking but doing it badly.” He found his way out of Miles’s arm, looked at him, and winked. “Pay attention, Counselor. It’s not that hard to keep up.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. “When you speak gibberish, it is. How in the hell was I supposed to know what not cooking is? How about we order out? Or throw something easy in the oven? That feels a whole lot easier than doing something neither of us are good at.”
Quinn’s smile turned into a frown. “Oh, does Mr. Perfect not like doing things he’s not good at?”
What kind of question was that? “Does anyone like doing things they’re not good at?”
“Yes, yes they do, Miles. That’s how you get good at things…or you’re just shitty at it forever and that’s okay because you can’t be good at everything.”
“Yes, yes I can, Quinn.” Miles spoke the same way Quinn had spoken to him and then slipped out from under him and walked over to his dresser.
As he pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs, Quinn said, “You have a nice ass. Do you ever bottom?”
Miles stopped, looked at him. Huh. He hadn’t expected that question. Quinn definitely loved bottoming. “I have. I will. If I’m being honest, I strongly prefer to top though. Is topping me something you’re interested in?”
Quinn didn’t move, just continued to lie on the bed watching him. “First, I don’t think you’re ever anything except honest, so no need to preface anything you say with that. Second, at this time? No. You know I like dick in my ass, but I was just curious if it was a preference or just a control thing with you. Actually, it might be exhausting to top you. I’m sure you’re a bossy bottom.”
Miles chuckled. “Me? Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Oh, let me think. I don’t know. What could ever give me that idea?” Quinn stood, stretched, then scratched his balls.
“Do you have an itch you’d like me to scratch?”
Quinn began to walk toward the bathroom. “Nah. It was a little boring last time.”
“You little fucker.” Miles wrapped his hand around Quinn’s wrist and jerked Quinn toward him.
Quinn playfully tried to fight him, but Miles overpowered him easily. He maneuvered Quinn against the wall, held him there with his body, and buried his face in Quinn’s neck, sucking on the skin there. He felt Quinn go lax immediately and found himself smiling. “Boring, huh? Is that why you tremble every time I touch you? Is that why you damn near come out of your skin every time I’m inside of you?” He rutted against Quinn again.
“Okay…so maybe I exaggerated a little.”
“A lot,” Miles said and then sucked Quinn’s earlobe. “Tell me I drive you crazy…”
“Well, you are annoying as hell so…” Quinn said breathlessly, making Miles smile into his neck. Damn it. The man could always make him smile.
“Tell me. I drive. You crazy,” he said again. “Tell me you’re always hungry for my cock.”
“Only if you say the same thing about me.”
“Well, you are annoying as hell…” Miles tried to use Quinn’s words on him.
“See? That’s what I thought. If you can’t admit it, I won’t admit it. I think I’m going to make it my mission to ensure you don’t always get your way. I think you’re likely too used to getting it.”
Miles’s hold on Quinn eased up, and that’s when he took advantage and slipped around him.
“This is going to be fun! I’m so glad we decided to see where this goes. I’m going to enjoy turning you inside out, Miles Sorenson.”
Quinn walked into the bathroom, leaving Miles standing there, unstable on his own feet. No one had ever made him feel unsteady before, yet he had a feeling Quinn would constantly put him in that state.
He was so fucked.
*
Quinn had borrowed a pair of sweats from Miles, and then they’d ordered Chinese food. It had just arrived a moment before. Miles headed straight for the table, but Quinn said, “No. I don’t think so. Let’s eat on the patio. I need some color.”
He was surprised when Miles cocked a brow at him and said, “Yeah, I was noticing that in bed earlier.”
Fucker. “I meant because your apartment is so gray, but I think you know that. And I burn, thank you very much.”
He liked this, though. Enjoyed the laughter and the fun from Miles. He was hard to nail down, in a lot of ways. He was serious, a little closed off, and obviously valued honesty, but he also was sarcastic and funny. He wasn’t a guy who you could never get to lighten up. He just seemed to flip back and forth between his feelings a lot. He was okay with being sarcastic and fun as long as it wasn’t about anything important.
“Just so you’re aware, I’m only eating outside because I could use some fresh air and not because you want to.”
“Whoa.” Quinn stopped walking, and Miles cocked his head at him.
“What?”
“I thought you didn’t lie.”
Miles rolled his eyes before he gently pushed around Quinn on his way to the sliding glass door. “Don’t make me put a gag in you.”
Oh. “Can we do that? I mean, not now because I don’t want to be forced to shut up unless it’s in bed, but maybe next time we fuck?”
Miles paused, with his hand on the door. His pupils were blown out as he looked like he was trying to figure Quinn out. “Are you being serious? Do you like to play like that?”
Quinn shrugged, swatted Miles’s hand out of the way, and opened the door. “I’ll leave you in suspense on that one.”
Miles growled at him. “You drive me crazy.”
“You drive me crazy too, Miles.”
By the way Miles closed his eyes and quietly cursed, Quinn knew Miles realized Quinn had gotten him to say what they’d each refused to
say in the bedroom, and he’d gotten Miles to say it first.
“You know what? I’m not sure I like you very much.” Miles closed the door and set the food on the small, black iron table on the balcony.
“I know. You’ve told me. Only I don’t believe you, Counselor. That’s two lies.”
Miles opened his mouth then closed it again as though he didn’t know what to say next. God, this was fun. “I know. I’m a lot to handle. Sit down and eat. What are we doing after lunch?”
“Gagging you?” Miles answered as he took the seat across from him. Quinn began to pull the food out of the bags.
“No, not today. I’m not letting you off that easily.”
“Um…working, then? I’m sure you have game stuff to do, and I have a case I need to work on.”
Quinn’s eyes shot up. “It’s Saturday.”
“So?”
“You can’t work on weekends.”
“You work on weekends,” Miles countered.
“Yeah, but my job is fun.”
“What the fuck?” Miles picked up a potsticker and threw it at him, bouncing it off his shoulder before it hit the balcony. Then he realized what he’d done because it definitely wasn’t like him. He decided ignoring it was the best choice. “I like my job. I’m good as hell at my job.”
“You’re good at everything, except cooking. I know.”
“If the shoe fits…” Miles replied, and Quinn rolled his eyes. When Miles took a deep breath, Quinn knew that brutal-honesty gig was about to be enacted. “This…spending time together. I can’t promise you it will turn into anything.”
“Did I ask for it to?” Quinn questioned. “And did I say I wanted it to?”
“Well, no. I’m just saying we don’t have to rush things. We’re not suddenly going steady.”
Quinn frowned. “Does that mean I don’t get your class ring?”
“Damn it!” Miles gritted out before a small smile touched at his lips. And then, he said something Quinn definitely didn’t expect him to say. “I wish you were two,” because it was again admitting that he saw something in Quinn that he liked, when at first, he’d hammered home to Quinn that this was nothing but sex.
“Eh. Maybe once you figure out my equation, I will be, and we’ll both go our separate ways, and you can live a boring, surly existence again.”
Miles didn’t reply. After a moment, they both began eating. Every now and then, Miles would watch him. Quinn stuck his tongue out at him and Miles chuckled.
“Why are you looking at me like you don’t know who I am?” Quinn finally asked.
“Because I don’t know who you are.”
That was a bullshit answer if Quinn ever heard one. “You know I like video games and I design them. That my best friend moved to Virginia to live with his Supercross boyfriend. You know I’m not a good cook and I’m a little obnoxious and I like to laugh. You know I was raised bouncing around from foster home to foster home and why. You know sometimes I can’t sleep at night and that sometimes I come from a finger in my ass and nothing else. You know I like bruises on my hips and bossy tops and obviously Chinese food. Stop thinking so much. You know a lot about me.”
“You know a lot about me too.” There was this wonder in Miles’s voice that told Quinn that knowledge shocked him. To realize the little things you came to know about someone just by talking to them, by fucking them. Sometimes those things added up to something and sometimes…well sometimes they apparently didn’t come out to two.
The two of them finished eating. When they were finished, Quinn stood. The sun hurt his eyes slightly, though he didn’t know why. There was a part of him that wanted to stay, but then he figured Miles was right. Maybe they were jumping in with both feet even though they didn’t know what in the fuck they were jumping into.
“I guess I’ll head out. I need to get a few things done. Later tonight, I’m going to Hotel Café. They have this local indie singer who plays there that I like, and I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.” Quinn winked at him.
They went inside, and Miles stayed in the living room while Quinn went to his room and put his clothes back on.
A few minutes later he was standing by the door, with Miles’s finger under his chin, tilting his head up.
Without a word, he pressed a quick kiss to Quinn’s lips before stepping back and closing the door.
Well, he guessed that was that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Miles was being ridiculous.
He’d spent a couple hours trying to concentrate on work at home but hadn’t had any luck. He’d paced and then cleaned the bathroom and imagined bending Quinn over the counter again and how his hot, tight ass felt wrapped around his dick and knew he had to get the fuck out of there before he lost his mind.
The thing was, it didn’t get better when he got to the office. He thought about the talks they had and the sex they had and how they were just letting things happen to see where they went, and he was pretty fucking sure he was obsessed.
Miles obsessed about a lot of things—work, honesty, his friends.
He didn’t obsess about a piece of ass but then, Quinn wasn’t just a piece of ass, was he?
He’d become a friend. Miles cared about him, and that was some crazy fucking knowledge that he’d known but still didn’t know what to do with.
For the hundredth time, he thought he was going to kill Quinn. Stupid, funny, sexy, sarcastic Quinn.
Yes, obviously he was obsessed.
“Argh!” Miles ran a hand over his buzzed head and picked up his cell phone.
Chance answered after the second ring. “What’s up, boo?”
“I hate it when you call me that. It’s so annoying. I’m not your boo.”
There was a click, and Miles knew right away Chance had hung up on him. The fucker. He called right back, and the second Chance answered he said, “You hung up on me,” as though it was new knowledge.
“That’s because you were being a dick, and I wanted a do-over. Are you going to be nice now?”
Why was Miles friends with Chance again? “I can’t make you any promises.”
Chance sighed. “Well, that’s a little better. Now, what’s up, boo?”
Miles bit his lip, knowing that his friend said that just to annoy him, a small part of him appreciating it. None of their group let one another get away with anything, which if you asked Miles, was the way it should be. They called each other out on their shit, but usually it was Miles doing the calling out. He didn’t like being on the other end of it.
What would they think if they knew about Quinn? How much shit would they give him? Especially Oliver, considering Miles has harassed him for years about being obsessed with Matt, and now Miles himself was obsessed. He shook that thought from his head. There was no reason to think about Chance, Oliver, and Matt knowing anything about Quinn. His sex life and his friendships had nothing to do with each other. “Not much,” he finally answered. “Just working on a case and I needed a mental break so I thought I’d see what you’re up to.”
“Not a whole lot. I’m just hanging out a bit. I’m dancing at Vibe tonight. Wanna come watch?”
“No, I can’t. Not tonight.” Miles’s answer came automatically even though it was a lie. He definitely could go watch Chance dance tonight. He likely should go watch him. It would help him get his mind off of someone else.
“You’re ridiculous. Let me guess, you’re going to bury yourself in law books and notes and cases because it’s not Friday and that’s the only night you have designated for fun, am I right?”
I’ve been having more fun than that. I’ve spent more than one night with a man and we had lunch together and I told him about my past… “Yes and there’s nothing wrong with that.” There went another lie. For someone who’d always prided himself on brutal honesty, he was becoming quite the liar.
“No, I guess there’s not. One of us has to be the boring one.”
“Hey! I’m not boring!”
�
�Well, I sure as shit am not the boring one. Ollie and Matt are shacked up, growing up and moving on, so they aren’t boring. That leaves you.”
Miles grinned and the first thought that slammed into his brain was, Chance and Quinn would get along. Chance would love hanging out with Quinn. “Fine. I’ll be boring.”
There was a pause and then Chance asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing going on with you lately? You haven’t been yourself.”
No, he really hadn’t, and even though that should bother him, it strangely didn’t as much as he thought it would. He could tell Chance what was going on. That he’d met a man who intrigued him. Chance would be happy for him. He would appropriately give Miles shit because that’s what friends were for, but he would be happy for him. He would support him. If the situation were reversed, Miles would demand the information from Chance or Ollie or even Matt.
But then, why did he need to put a name to it and talk about it when it was basically nothing more than fucking the same person and hanging out with him? It wasn’t as though he needed to make an announcement declaring his friends-with-benefits relationship with Quinn.
So, he didn’t. He just said, “Yeah, I’m fine, baby. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. I’m just suddenly feeling out of the loop and I don’t know why—first with Ollie and Matt and now with you. I don’t like it. I’m supposed to be the center of attention, you know.”
That made Miles laugh because it was true. He’d always been the one out of the four of them who demanded the most attention, just by being himself. “Aww. Is Chance feeling left out? Don’t worry, we still love you.”
“Well, duh,” he answered, and Miles chuckled again. They got off the phone a moment later. Miles sat in his office chair, staring at his computer and then said, “Fuck it.” He picked up his phone again and sent Quinn a text. What time should I meet you at Hotel Café?
Quinn’s one word reply came almost immediately. Nine.
