Action

by Quinn Anderson

  A frown was weighing down the corners of Joshua’s lips, but he remained silent.

  “Something wrong?” Pete asked.

  “No,” Joshua answered slowly. “Your boyfriend just looks different in the light, I guess. At the club it was too dark for me to really see him.”

  Pete knew better than to ask what that was supposed to mean—it was probably something rude—so he walked around the counter and approached Evan. “Thanks for stopping by. I’m thrilled to see you.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure, believe me.” He looked around. “Is this place usually so quiet?”

  “No, I think it’s the threat of imminent rain that’s keeping people away.”

  “I saw the rainbow flag out front. Is this place cool?” His tone was suspiciously casual.

  “Yeah, we’re LGBT-friendly, and just about every other kind of friendly too.”

  “Is that so?” Before Pete could react, Evan leaned up and kissed him. Pete turned violently red and looked at Joshua out of the corner of his eye. He was watching them, but instead of leering like Pete expected, his brow was furrowed. It was like he was trying to do long division in his head.

  Now Pete was really concerned, almost too concerned to enjoy the kiss. Almost.

  Evan pulled away and brushed a thumb over his cheek. “Want to give me a tour?”

  “It’ll have to wait for my break. There’s a lot that needs to be done, and I just got here.”

  “Go ahead,” Joshua said. “It’s dead anyway.”

  Had Pete been a more expressive person, his mouth would have popped open. Joshua never let someone else go on break if he could go first. Pete hastened to take him up on the offer before he changed his mind.

  “Follow me, sir,” he said to Evan with a flourish of his arm. “We begin our tour in the Field of Squishy Armchairs.”

  He led him toward the main room. Before he could take more than a few steps, Evan sidled up to him, a sly grin plastered on his face. “Did I hear him call me your boyfriend?”

  Pete nearly tripped over his own feet. He sputtered, “Uh. I didn’t— He doesn’t— That is to say—”

  Evan covered his mouth to smother his laughter.

  Pete huffed. “You’re so mean.”

  “I tease because I care.” He laced their fingers together.

  Pete scanned the room. There was one customer hunched over a laptop at a corner table—so focused on his laptop, Pete had to wonder if it had winning Lotto numbers on the screen or something—but otherwise the Globe was devoid of life.

  “As you can see,” Pete intoned, “it’s very exciting here. Positively bustling. From the pretentious abstract art on the walls to the chipped mugs, we’re a real cultural hub. And don’t get me started on the milk station.” He gestured to it. “I could wax poetic about the intricacies of the nutmeg shakers.”

  Evan chuckled. “Fascinating. Lead on, tour guide.”

  Pete took him behind the counter—which he thought might be illegal, but no one said anything—and headed for the stockroom. That prompted a round of raucous hooting from Joshua that meant he was back to his old self. Pete scowled at him and told him to grow up, but the second the door closed behind them, Evan pinned him against the wall and kissed him breathless. That turned into a furious make-out session that almost convinced Pete he didn’t need this job and should just walk out, taking Evan with him to the nearest bed.

  Luckily, Evan pulled away before his hormones could completely circumvent his sense.

  “We should stop.” He put some space between them with obvious reluctance.

  “I’d hate to give anyone a free show, or get you in trouble.”

  “Yeah, good call,” Pete said, masking the tiny pang of disappointment he felt. He took Evan’s hand and led him out of the room, purposefully not looking at him, lest he start blushing again. Joshua was busy helping a customer when they exited, so they were spared any further comment.

  Pete looked around. “There’s not much else to see, I’m afraid.”

  Evan pointed at a hallway near the entrance. “What’s down there?”

  “The bathrooms and a supply closet. Like I said, there isn’t much to see.”

  Evan shoved his hands into his pockets and peered up at the ceiling, unwittingly emphasizing his long neck. Pete was overcome by a strange impulse to kiss his Adam’s apple. He only resisted through sheer force of will.

  “Do the bathrooms have to be opened with a key?” Evan asked.

  “Yeah, but I have one right here.” Pete pulled it out of the pocket of his apron. “You can use it if you need to.”

  “Why don’t you show me how? I think I’d benefit from a personal demonstration, and—” his lips curled up suggestively “—it’s a lot more private down there.”

  This was a bad idea. Pete understood that perfectly well, but Evan’s smile went straight between his legs, and thanks to their earlier make-out session, he was more than a little horny.

  “We shouldn’t,” he protested weakly.

  Evan closed a hand around his wrist. “Come on.”

  Pete allowed himself to be led toward the hallway. He chanced a look in Joshua’s direction. Blessedly, he was engrossed in making whatever drink the customer had ordered. Judging by the scowl on his face, it was a complicated one. He could never remember more than three ingredients at a time. He’d probably mess up and have to make it again, which would buy them some time.

  If Pete were a good person, he would offer to help him.

  Pete kept walking.

  The blood that should have been powering his brain was trickling downward. They made it to the end of the hallway, which had three doors: the closet Pete had mentioned and two gender-neutral bathrooms. Pete unlocked one with trembling fingers. Evan placed a hand on his, steadying it, and as soon as the lock clicked, he swept them in. He shut the door behind them.

  It was pitch-black inside, the only light coming from a thin crack at the base of the door. Pete couldn’t see Evan, but he swore he could feel him, like his energy was crackling around Pete. The sound of his own labored breathing and his pulse thundering in his ears drowned out all other sound, so it came as a complete surprise when Evan pounced.

  The first touch of lips was like a spark in the darkness. When Evan cupped Pete’s face and stepped closer, eradicating the space between them, it grew to a flame. Pete hesitated for all of two seconds before he melted into it, kissing back with everything he had. He threw his arms over Evan’s shoulders and pressed against him. He’d been half-hard since the stockroom, and now that they were alone, desire suffused his body.

  Evan chuckled against his mouth. He pulled back with a smack of lips. “So eager. Where’s the shy man who wouldn’t have sex with me in a porn studio’s bathroom?”

  “Maybe you fucked him out of me last night,” Pete said.

  Evan made a low, rumbling sound, and Pete was once more reminded of a cat. “I was just planning to get you off, but if you keep talking like that, you’ll be in for a repeat performance.”

  The arousal that surged through Pete was so potent his knees wavered from the force of it. Evan had both hands on his waist. His grip tightened when Pete falter, as if to help support him.

  “Promise?” Pete breathed back.

  Evan brought their lips together, not kissing, just touching, and mouthed, “You asked for it.”

  Pete expected to be kissed, but instead Evan flipped the light on. Pete blinked spots out of his eyes. Before he could recover, Evan shoved him against the sink—which made a worrisome creaking noise—and stepped between his spread legs. The possessiveness of the act sent a shiver up his spine.

  Evan brought their faces close but didn’t kiss him. Instead, he slid his arms around his waist and fumbled with something. Drunk as he was with arousal, it took Pete a moment to realize it was his apron tie. Evan unknotted it and slipped it above his head, tossing it aside. Then, he reached for the hem of his shirt.

  Pete was just about to object—much as
he loved being skin to skin with Evan, he couldn’t very well strip in the bathroom—but Evan didn’t pull his shirt off. He just shoved it up enough to get at his pants. At the feel of Evan’s fingers on his fly, Pete finally realized what they were doing.

  “We should get back out there,” he panted. Despite what he’d said to Evan, he was not the guy who had sex in the bathroom at work.

  “If that’s what you want, sure,” Evan said. “But I don’t think it is. You’re just saying that because you think you should. You want to be in here with me.” He rubbed Pete through his jeans. Pete almost wasn’t fast enough to stifle the moan that burst out of him. He rocked into the touch, pleasure skittering up his spine. Evan stroked him deftly through the thick material. If he hadn’t been hard before, he certainly was now.

  “Evan, we can’t,” Pete squeaked, even as he did nothing to stop him.

  “We can. We may have only had sex once, officially, but I know what gets you off. It won’t take more than five minutes, I promise.”

  Pete was so keyed up, he had no doubt. The last of his resistance fizzled out with a pathetic spluttering sound.

  “Okay,” he relented, “but please be quick.”

  Evan’s smile was sinful. “I love it when you say please.”

  He sank to his knees, and oh God did that make Pete dizzy. Evan planted a light kiss on the front of his pants, where his dick was straining against the zipper holding it in. Pete gripped the sink behind him so hard his knuckles must be white. He wanted to beg Evan to hurry up, but his hormones threatened mutiny if he did anything to interrupt what was happening. Evan eyed his groin, licking his lips. Then he met Pete’s gaze and mouthed the outline of his cock, hot and damp even through the denim.

  Pete was so hard he couldn’t see straight. Oh fuck, he’d thought he needed to worry about getting caught, but it seemed the real danger was coming in his pants. Evan had the button open and the zipper down before Pete could process the movements. Evan dipped his tongue through the opening. It had to be uncomfortable, licking Pete’s dick through his underwear with metal teeth from the zipper in the way, but it looked hopelessly erotic, and Evan didn’t complain. It wasn’t even a direct touch, and Pete felt like he was going to burst.

  A second later, Evan withdrew his tongue and rose to his feet. Pete whined, but then Evan spun him around. He used his torso to bend Pete over the sink, guiding Pete’s hands to grip the edges of the porcelain bowl. Then he found Pete’s gaze in the mirror. Pete didn’t need him to speak to understand: he wanted Pete to watch what he did next.

  Evan’s hands ghosted down Pete’s sides to where his jeans and underwear were hanging from his hips. He slid them down, taking care to move his boxers in such a way that his erection bobbed up, slapping his stomach. The visual was almost as hot as what they were actually doing. Dating a fellow porn star had some serious perks.

  Evan stopped showing off and got serious a moment later. He pushed Pete’s clothing down to his knees, seeming impatient to have it out of the way. Then he kicked the inside of one of Pete’s shoes. It took Pete a moment to understand before he spread his legs as wide as his pants would accommodate.

  He heard rather than saw Evan exhale. There was such raw desire in that sound alone, Pete shivered in response. Evan pressed himself against Pete’s back, letting him feel his still-clothed erection, before fumbling with his belt buckle. And, oh fuck, just the clink of metal on metal made Pete’s cock swell. He let his head loll between his shoulders; he hadn’t the strength to support it any longer.

  Not being able to easily see behind him added a new layer of sexiness to what they were doing. He had to picture all of Evan’s movements in his head. He heard the click click click of his zipper being pulled down, followed by a rustle of fabric that had to be him shoving his pants out of the way. It was followed by a second of loaded silence. Pete imagined he was maneuvering his dick out of his underwear, too eager to deal with another article of clothing. By the time it was over, Pete’s mouth was watering.

  Evan pressed against him again, and his erection, hot and hard, settled between Pete’s ass cheeks. He rocked his hips, breathing heavily. There wasn’t any sort of lube to guide the way, but Pete loved every second of it: the heaviness of him, the closeness, the harsh friction of skin on skin.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, flexing his fingers on the edge of the sink.

  Evan slid a hand into his hair and grabbed a fistful, pulling his head back. He licked a wet stripe up his throat. “Don’t forget, you have to be quiet.”

  “Oh, fuck you.” It was all Pete could do to hold himself upright.

  “Please do.” Evan’s mouth drifted up his neck to the skin behind his ears. He was still thrusting slowly, but his movements were getting more purposeful, more wanting.

  Pete gasped, “Condom.”

  “Way ahead of you.”

  Evan released him and rummaged with something. Pete chanced a peek over his shoulder. What he saw was very close to what he’d imagined: Evan’s jeans and underwear shoved down to the tops of his thighs, his cock jutting straight out of his trimmed hair. He’d just pulled a condom and a packet of lube out of his back pocket.

  “You came prepared,” Pete said, not sure if it was an accusation or a compliment.

  “I was a Boy Scout.” He winked, ripped open the wrapper, and slid the condom on. Then he opened the lube and coated the fingers on his left hand. Pete turned back around and braced himself. The first swipe of lubed fingers against his hole made him tense—not with pain, but anticipation—but he managed to relax by the time Evan pressed into him.

  Pete’s breath caught in his throat. “Fuck, Evan, that feels so good.”

  Evan shushed him. “If you can’t keep it down, we’re going to get caught.”

  Pete whimpered helplessly. Evan added another finger, and his whimper turned into a whine.

  Evan laughed, a hot puff of breath against his damp skin.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just, there was a part of me that thought you’d be quiet in bed. I thought all that moaning you did when we were filming was for the benefit of the camera.” He nipped at his earlobe, making him gasp. “I’m thrilled to discover I was wrong.”

  Pete was too frustrated by the slow drag of Evan’s fingers to tease him back. “Hurry up. We’ll get caught anyway if you take too long.”

  “You’re so demanding.” It in no way sounded like a complaint. Evan withdrew his fingers, took himself in hand, and nudged the head of his cock against Pete’s entrance. “You want me?”

  Pete was gripping the sink so hard, he had to flex his fingers to get the blood flowing again. “You know I do. I always want you.”

  Evan pressed against him again, and this time, the head of his cock popped just barely into him. “I know, but I like to hear you say it. How badly do you want me?”

  Pete made a strangled sound. “So badly.”

  Evan met Pete’s eyes in the mirror. “Then take me.” He slid fully into him in one liquid stroke.

  It felt so good, Pete swore he saw God. “Evan, fuck, do that again.”

  Evan drew his hips back only to slide home again, rocking them both onto their toes. He didn’t hold back, didn’t slowly work his way in or give Pete time to adjust. Evan just gripped his hips and pushed him up farther on the sink, slamming home, making Pete’s mouth fall open.

  Evan pulled back, breathed, and snapped back in, playing with different rhythms and angles. He had a marked talent for finding the right combination to drive Pete wild. After a half dozen thrusts, Evan shifted a little, rocked into him, and sent pleasure crackling along Pete’s nerve endings.

  Pete knew it wasn’t possible, but Evan actually felt bigger than he had the night before. Maybe it was the angle or the force with which he was thrusting into Pete, but Pete wanted to claw at the walls, he was so full of Evan’s cock. He didn’t realize how loudly he was moaning until Evan bit the back of his neck, startling him into silence.

&
nbsp; “Pete,” Evan murmured, licking the spot in apology, “you have got to be quiet.”

  “I can’t,” Pete whined. “You feel so good.”

  Evan shuddered and fucked deeply into him, hips to ass, chest to back, skin to skin. “Do you want someone to interrupt us?” His hand found its way to Pete’s leaking cock.

  Pete didn’t even register that he’d spoken. The hand stroking him had just become the center of his universe. It was almost too intense. He tried to articulate what he needed, but his tongue slipped around the words, unable to form them.

  He managed to focus long enough to find Evan’s reflection in the mirror. “Please.”

  Somehow, Evan understood. He clamped a hand over Pete’s mouth. Pete placed one of his on top of it, holding it firmly in place.

  Now that Pete’s mouth was covered, Evan slammed hard and deep into him. Pete bit down on his palm; it had to hurt, but Evan didn’t say a word. His face was tortured as he fucked him, brow coated in sweat, eyes half closed, mouth open.

  “Fuck, I’m almost . . . I’m so . . .”

  Pete whimpered against his hand to indicate that he understood. He pushed back against the sink as Evan’s thrusts grew increasingly forceful. The metal hinges and piping squeaked in protest, but mercifully held. It wouldn’t matter how quiet Pete was if they burst a pipe. Even so, he wasn’t even certain he was capable of caring right now. It felt like Evan was touching every part of him at once, reaching into his core and stoking a fire that was spreading through his veins.

  From the look on Evan’s face, he was experiencing something similar. He found Pete’s reflection again and held his gaze. His expression was open and defenseless. He kissed a bead of sweat rolling down Pete’s cheekbone and whispered brokenly, “I don’t know how I’m ever going to get enough of you.”

  Pete wasn’t sure when this had shifted from kinky to intimate, but it plucked something deep within him, and suddenly, he was right on the edge. There was a dizzying, fucked-out moment where Pete thought to himself that this was hands down the best sex he’d ever had, and he was having it shoved up against a sink in a coffee shop bathroom.