Reaping Havoc

by AJ Rose

  Mitch looked at him surprised, then burst into laughter. “Has that shit worked on guys in the past?”

  Nate couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Not really. But I figured a fellow romance reader like yourself would appreciate the—”

  “Utter absurdity?” Mitch interrupted.

  “Exactly.” Nate beamed, opening the door to the Jeep for his date. Rounding the vehicle to the driver’s side, he continued as they settled in. “But why is it absurd? If we’re being honest, don’t we all want the perfect ending?”

  Mitch didn’t answer for a long time. “We may all want it, even if we won’t admit the wanting. That doesn’t mean we all get it.”

  “Well, no, we won’t all get it with that attitude.” Nate pouted, then let his normal voice take over. “We have to go after it. It’s not just going to fall in our laps. In all seriousness, I thought it was cool to find out you read the same stuff I do. Most people are ashamed to admit that.”

  “Hmm.” Mitch stared at passing buildings, the open ones lit up and bright against the night sky. “Not ashamed to read it,” he continued as if there hadn’t been a long pause Nate was still trying to decipher. “Just not that optimistic about it being real. Maybe that’s why I like reading them so much. Living vicariously and all that.”

  Nate frowned. If that didn’t put a damper on the night…. His mood slid from disappointment to determination. If anyone deserved a happily ever after, it was Mitch. Maybe all he needed was a little faith there was someone out there for him. In that moment, Nate vowed to see if he was that someone.

  Chapter 7

  Letting Loose

  “I never understood why this bar is called The Beach. We’re not near a lake, let alone an ocean.” Mitch eyed the neon sign and the mostly full parking lot, the beat of music muffled but still audible. The building had been built in the style of a ski lodge but on a smaller scale, with sharply peaked gables for heavy snowfall control.

  “The Beach is a ski term,” Nate explained as they waded between cars. “It’s when skiers hang out in the parking lot of a lodge if ski conditions are bad. Sort of a tailgating atmosphere, usually spontaneous, and they’re more common in spring when the snow is slushier.”

  “Well, learn something new every day.”

  They entered the building, lit mainly by neon beer signs and hanging globes with blue light bulbs, giving everything an eerie cast, including the two souls that had been trailing Nate and Mitch all night. Mitch had been on edge all day and had almost canceled their date when the trip to Durango for Gary, his ghostly construction friend, hadn’t resulted in contact with Gary’s son. Mitch had tried to catch the boy’s mother in public with her son in tow so it’d be a simple matter of following her long enough for Gary to do his thing and get his door, but after waiting two hours for them to leave their small house for an errand of any kind, Mitch had been forced to knock on the door.

  He’d pretended to be a new neighbor, but the woman had grown suspicious when he said he was new to the neighborhood but couldn’t tell her which house he was moving into. He’d babbled about not having closed on the house yet, and she said she wasn’t aware of any neighbors selling their home, especially with winter coming up. Without a plausible reason to contradict her, she’d slammed the door in his face without him even glimpsing the child. It was moments like that he hated most, frightening everyday people because he couldn’t tell them the truth.

  After wracking his brain for some way to get her cooperation, Mitch had resigned himself to knocking again and saying through the closed door that he was a friend of Gary’s and hadn’t wanted her to immediately dismiss him before he had a chance to tell her the news. She’d put the chain on the door and opened it the two inches necessary to hear him out. When he told her of Gary’s death, she grimaced and softened, and he thought there was a chance she’d invite him in to find out more. Instead, she merely asked him to pass her condolences on to Gary’s family and shut the door in his face.

  Mitch was hard-pressed to find another way Gary could give his final goodbye to the son from whom he was obviously estranged. Mitch wondered if the boy even knew who his daddy was. Gary had moped the entire day, pacing the small apartment and driving Mitch crazy. It was only being cooped up with an agitated soul all day that convinced him not to cancel on Nate. At least he’d have something else to focus on while the guy threw the ghost equivalent of a temper tantrum.

  Apparently Nate was having the same sort of trouble with Soul Girl, though she didn’t seem quite as irritable about her lack of moving on.

  Mitch bought the first round of drinks and they sat at the bar, watching people dance and laugh and generally cut loose. He stuck to margaritas, and while talking over the music was difficult, he pointed out those he knew to Nate, giving him a brief summary of the people.

  “Come dance with me,” Nate urged, finishing his soda and relieving Mitch of his drink. He hauled Mitch to his feet.

  “I don’t know,” Mitch hedged. “I’m not so sure how people will react.”

  “I’m not going to hump you in the middle of the dance floor,” Nate promised, then leaned close to speak in his ear. “Unless you want me to.”

  A spark of interest zinged down Mitch’s spine and into the pit of his stomach, but he shook his head even as Nate pulled him into the throng.

  “What I want and what we should do are two different things. This is a straight bar.”

  “Just relax. Have fun.”

  The song, OneRepublic’s “Something I Need,” was buoyant, and the crowd was into it, shouting the chorus and writhing to the beat. It was easy for Mitch to join in, and while he was technically dancing with Nate, it wasn’t too intimate.

  The crowd howled about who they wanted to die with if they only died once, and after a few repeats, Mitch and Nate joined in. The words were more appropriate than Mitch would ever admit, but he shoved the thought aside and enjoyed the way Nate moved, perfectly in tune with his body and the music. That song gave way to Natalia Kills’s “Wonderland” and by the time the DJ slowed it down with Placebo’s version of “Running Up That Hill,” Mitch was out of breath, sweating, and more alive than he’d felt in a long time. The lights dimmed and smoke machines blew fog through the crowd, giving it a ghostly cast in the sweeping lights spearing the darkness at regular intervals. Strobes made the dancers stutter and stop and despite that, sensuality descended on them, and Nate dared to plaster himself to Mitch’s back in the incongruous light, grinding against him.

  Inevitable arousal skyrocketed through Mitch, and he got hard, swaying in time with Nate’s movements. He forgot about Gary, Soul Girl, and his reluctance for anything with Nate to go beyond friendship. He replayed the kisses of their first date and let his head fall to Nate’s shoulder. Nate’s jaw was smooth against his cheek and made his skin tingle. He reached up to thread his fingers through the hair at the nape of Nate’s neck, his other hand finding the man’s hip as they moved in time. Mitch wasn’t a fabulous dancer, but in that moment, he could have stood on a stage and let it all go, not giving a damn what anyone thought. Nate’s hands landed on his hips, his thumbs hooking in the waistband of Mitch’s jeans, caressing his damp skin. If Mitch hadn’t been so turned on, it would have tickled.

  Emboldened by his inclusion in a crowd that seemed to descend into hedonistic pleasure, Mitch turned and wound his arms around Nate’s neck, their chests flush. He wondered if Nate could feel his heartbeat throbbing in time with the song, which seamlessly transitioned to Britney Spears’s “Hold It Against Me.” They mouthed the words to each other, and Mitch couldn’t mistake Nate’s interest as a hard cock pressed against his stomach, rubbing through layers of clothes.

  Their lips were a mere inch apart, and though Mitch was uncomfortable with public displays of affection, given the chance of drawing more than dirty looks, he would have gladly closed the distance in his haze of arousal. Nate, however, didn’t let him when he tried, pulling back and keeping them on the knife’s edge of
doing something about their proximity and unmistakable chemistry.

  Someone bumped into Nate from behind, and Mitch thought he heard someone growl “faggots” beneath the synth beat, and a metaphorical bucket of ice water dumped on them. He pulled out of Nate’s arms, not bothering to find the speaker.

  “It was nice while it lasted,” he said sadly, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Want another drink?”

  Nate, to his credit, didn’t bother to find the people who’d broken their spell either, merely agreeing with a lopsided grin and following Mitch off the dance floor as Britney turned into Bat for Lashes. Their drinks went down quickly, but Nate stopped Mitch before he could signal for another one.

  “Wanna get out of here?”

  Heat suffused his entire body, ratcheting up from the humid air in the club, and he gazed at Nate, who met his eyes, unflinching and unapologetic.

  “Yes,” Mitch answered before he could think better of it. He was feeling defiant and reckless, pissed off that even in a mostly accepting town like Caperville, he wasn’t guaranteed a decent date without some asshole giving him shit because he’d danced with a man. But it was more than that. Nate was kind when so few here had ever been. He stood up for him, and when he’d said the other night he wanted to get to know Mitch, he hadn’t been lying. For the first time since college, Mitch felt connected to someone beyond an eye fuck and a quickie blow job in a bathroom stall, a hookup that resulted in him trudging home at wee o’clock, or waking up alone. He wanted to go home with Nate.

  It wasn’t until they were in the Jeep, Nate’s fingers threaded through his, that he realized they’d have a spectral audience. That same defiance from being degraded at The Beach rose again, and he decided if Gary and Soul Girl didn’t like it, well, they didn’t have to watch. Mitch was tired of putting the comfort of everyone else ahead of himself, and for once, he was going to enjoy someone’s company without fear of what the next day or next decades would bring.

  “I hope going to your place is okay,” Nate said, breaking into his thoughts. “I didn’t figure you’d want Sadie alone overnight.”

  “That’s perfect. Thank you for being considerate of her.”

  They didn’t speak the rest of the ride. Nate’s thumb passed over his in tiny caresses that went straight to Mitch’s dick, achingly confined in his jeans. It was the very smallness of the gesture that got him so worked up, and by the time they reached his front door, Mitch vibrated with need. So much for not jumping into bed too soon. He didn’t even bother with the minute courtesy of holding the door open for their dead companions, knowing they could pass through things.

  There’s your answer for Gary. He gave a decisive shake of his head to banish thoughts of anything other than Nate, the way he looked in his sweater and dress pants, and how Mitch wanted to peel him out of them and watch each slow inch reveal itself.

  “Something wrong?” Nate murmured, stepping into his space.

  “No. Stray thought that can wait for another time.”

  He tried to close the distance between their lips again, and Nate backed up, teasing, tilting his chin like he wanted Mitch to go for it but would make him chase.

  “You sure?” Nate asked, eyes alight with mischief. He brushed their noses together, his hot breath feathering over Mitch’s lips and making him crazy.

  “Yes.”

  “Really sure?” Nate avoided him again.

  Mitch growled, pushed his hands into Nate’s hair to hold him still, and positively devoured his mouth. It wasn’t the emotionally charged kiss of their parking lot squabble, but it wasn’t gentle either. Mitch demanded with his lips and tongue and pressure to be let in. He always held back in things, except reaps where he could be honest. He worried what people would think about him. He played safe in public places, even with past conquests. He was discreet.

  Fuck discreet. This time, Mitch went for it wholeheartedly, with purposeful abandon and no sense of self-preservation.

  Nate lifted him up on the counter between the living room and kitchen, changing their heights and wedging himself between Mitch’s legs. He hadn’t even known he wanted to be manhandled like that, but the second he realized Nate bore his weight and could do what he wanted, the boiling desire in his stomach rose and burst forth like lava under pressure, exploding from him in a wanton groan that sounded loud even to his ears.

  “Like that?” Nate asked, tonguing the side of his neck and nipping his collarbone.

  The margaritas in Mitch’s system made him pliant, and he let his head fall back, his mouth open.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Nate unbuttoned his shirt as he lowered his lips down Mitch’s chest, kissing each area of skin revealed, licking at Mitch’s sternum and the ridges of his abdomen. The beauty of being practically immortal was a body at optimum health all the time, regardless of exercise or diet, and though he would have classified himself as a twink, he was a well-defined one, small in stature but lean and muscular. Nate seemed to love it, because he attentively ran his tongue around the dips in flesh marking Mitch’s abs above his belly button.

  With his shirt hanging open, he leaned back on the counter, knocking a few bills and a pet store weekly mailer to the floor.

  “Let’s take some pressure off, shall we?” Nate asked, his gaze meeting Mitch’s, which was just as heated. He popped the button on Mitch’s jeans and everything behind it swelled. When his jeans were laid open, Nate pulled the waistband of his underwear down, freeing Mitch’s dick and balls. The relief was immense and Mitch groaned. Nate breathed across his skin and watched it tighten at the sensation, looking his fill but not touching.

  “If you’re going to tease me by sucking it like you kissed me, I’m going to jack myself off in front of you and call it a night,” Mitch warned playfully.

  “Can’t a guy look for a bit before hurrying to the finish line?”

  “Look all you want, but do something.”

  Nate shot to his full height and pulled Mitch to the edge of the counter so he had to hold on or risk falling off. Then, in one swift move, Nate had Mitch’s legs wrapped around his waist, his hands supporting Mitch’s ass, and was carrying him to the bedroom at the back of the apartment.

  The doorknob proved awkward, so Mitch had to reach behind him and down to open it, but he didn’t want to interrupt Nate plundering his mouth with his tongue. They burst through the door, and Nate pivoted toward the bed, where they fell in a breathless heap, narrowly missing Sadie, who scrambled away, startled.

  “Sadie, corner,” Mitch ordered, pointing over Nate’s shoulder to the puppy pad on the floor in case he was gone longer than she could hold her bladder. He’d feel bad later for not taking her out.

  Nate peeled off Mitch’s clothes, unwrapping him like candy, then stepped back long enough to shed his sweater and pants, leaving them in a graceless heap on the floor. Palming himself, Nate didn’t immediately return, leaning over to switch on the bedside lamp. The dim glow was better than the overhead light.

  “This okay?”

  Mitch nodded, keeping his focus on the man in front of him and not the faces of their audience, both canine and human. Soul Girl was nodding enthusiastically and giving Mitch a thumbs-up with a bawdy wink, but Gary had his back turned, looking up at the ceiling as if asking why God could be so cruel and pleading to be let out of there.

  Nate lay atop him, and behind his back, Mitch flipped both souls off. They made out for long minutes, touching, learning to elicit each other’s gasps and moans, and when Nate aligned their dicks and humped him, Mitch reached between them to stroke them both.

  “How do you want it?” Nate asked, gazing down at him, lust evident in his kiss-swollen lips and half-mast eyes. “Like this? Blow jobs? Want me to fuck you or you fuck me?”

  I want to do it all. Mitch kissed Nate greedily to stop himself from thinking they had limited time before he had to walk away. He didn’t want to miss out on anything. Their audience was already tweaking his exhibitionist kink, somet
hing he hadn’t been aware he even had. The idea of Nate spreading him wide open and fucking him silly tripped his trigger even more. He felt dirty in the best way.

  “Fuck me,” he panted. Nate did a push-up as Mitch rolled to the side to scrabble for lube in the nightstand, tossing it on the bed within easy reach. He flipped to his stomach and presented his ass, hoping the sweat from dancing at the club wasn’t too overpowering.

  Nate paused. “Condom?”

  “I don’t have any,” Mitch answered. It wasn’t something he ever had to worry about, though he’d used them for the comfort of his previous hookups. He almost said not to bother, especially if Nate was a reaper, too, but something held his tongue. “It’s been a while.”

  “I got you,” Nate said, mistaking his meaning. He climbed off and rooted through his pants, coming up with a foil-wrapped nuisance. “I came prepared.” He ripped the packet with his teeth and set it aside, massaging the skin between Mitch’s cheeks and over his pucker. Little dribbles of lube soon followed.

  When Nate pushed a finger into him, Mitch grunted both in discomfort and desire, the sensation uncomfortable and welcome at once. It had been a couple years since he had a fuck buddy in college with whom he was secure enough to open himself up for this. The realization that he hadn’t known Nate long, and this was only their second date, had him feeling deliciously whorish and reckless. I’ve been celibate too long if I’m this needy.

  After several minutes of Nate working his fingers in, Mitch groped for the condom and tore the wrapper, hoping to move things along as well as help Nate out if his fingers were too slippery from lube. He tossed the packet somewhere behind him and smiled into the crook of his elbow when Nate chuckled.

  “Impatient much?”

  “Unless you have somewhere to be, we got all night,” Mitch said in all seriousness. “Fast now, slow later. Please.”

  “You want me to stay?” Nate asked, sounding surprised as he positioned himself at Mitch’s hole and began to press in.