Boys of Summer: Sharing Spaces

by Stephanie Vaughan

  The man was amazing and DJ had nothing but awe for his abilities. Joe wasn't ugly—far from it. But he wasn't magazine cover pretty, either. Fit, but not a gym rat. Sure, he was intelligent, but Stephen Hawking had nothing to worry about.

  DJ hadn't found the nerve yet to ask Joe what his secret was, but he would some day. It was uncanny, the way the man could pick up a date. Any day, any where, any time, seemingly. Coming home from work, going to the store. School was a given. The capper—the night that DJ had mentally awarded Joe the title of international champion of the world—was when Joe had gone out to gas up his motorcycle. Just gas, that was all.

  He'd come back an hour and a half later, his clothes askew, and a weary smile on his face. Weary, but satisfied.

  Fucking amazing.

  The crime drama on TV was quiet for the moment, and DJ was reaching for his glass when he heard it: the rhythmic squeak of bed springs, punctuated by euphoric moaning. Guttural and needy, it went straight to DJ's dick and he couldn't keep his gaze from abandoning the television and wandering up, over his shoulder to where the corner of the door to Joe's room was just visible.

  Lucky bastard.

  * * * *

  "What's wrong with your neck?"

  "Nothing. It's just a little tweaked. Ever since an accident I was in about ... five years ago. Every once in a while it bugs me.” The concern he read in DJ's eyes felt good. Joe didn't get a lot of that, and what he did get invariably came from the wrong person. David would be happy to help out, he was sure. “It'll be fine. Got any aspirin or Tylenol I can borrow?"

  "Do you want me to—"

  "What? Ow! Jesus, that hurt."

  DJ's hands, in the process of reaching, stopped suddenly. Joe had caught the movement with his peripheral vision and tried to turn his head. Stabbing pain shot down his neck and radiated out over his shoulders.

  "Here. Let me take a look at it."

  Without waiting for permission, DJ stepped behind Joe and placed both hands on his shoulders. Squeezing lightly, DJ's thumbs gently probed the muscles and tendons bridging Joe's shoulders and neck.

  "Move your head to the right."

  It wasn't difficult, so Joe did.

  "Okay, now the other way."

  Joe could only turn his head a little over half-way before the pain stopped him.

  "Have you seen a doctor about this?"

  Easygoing roommate DJ was nowhere to be seen and in his place was the dispassionate health care professional. Joe knew DJ was a physical therapist of some sort, but all Joe cared about right now were the magic hands giving him relief.

  "No, I don't have time. I can't miss work this week. But that feels great. Don't stop."

  DJ was working his hands down the muscles of Joe's left side, his thumbs moving in circles. Probing.

  "You really oughtta see someone about this."

  "I can't. It takes too long. I'd have to miss at least a solid three hours of work and I can't afford to right now. We've got a project going with the Milan office and I've got to be there since I'm the only one fluent in Italian."

  "No kidding?"

  DJ sounded preoccupied. Like he was focused on the diagnosis and the conversation was an afterthought. Joe didn't care. Whatever DJ was doing, it was working for Joe.

  "Can you just—I don't know—rub it, or something? Loosen it up a little?"

  Oh, God, it hurt.

  Even worse, when DJ found a problem area, he pressed on it and the bright flare of pain stopped Joe's breath. Gradually, though, the pain faded and it felt almost ... good. A good kind of hurt.

  DJ really had wonderful hands. The sureness with which he touched told Joe that DJ wasn't just blowing smoke about what he did. Joe could believe DJ did this every day. Touched people. Manipulated them. Moved his hands across their bare skin. How could he get DJ to—The ache flared again and lust took a back seat to pain. “Aw, shit, that hurt. Fuck."

  Warm breath ghosted over the back of Joe's neck. Was DJ leaning over him? Heat against his back said yes.

  "Listen. If you won't go to a doctor—"

  "Don't make me shake my head. Next week, for sure. I promise."

  "Hold on, then."

  DJ jogged up the stairs, tight jock's ass nicely displayed, and disappeared into his room, returning a moment later. Joe let his eyes drift half-shut and just enjoyed the sight of DJ half walking, half trotting back down the stairs; appreciated the easy play of muscles evident beneath the T-shirt and jeans. He wouldn't mind playing doctor with DJ some time. Open your mouth and say ‘ah.'

  "Here."

  Moving in close, DJ held out his closed fist and Joe lifted a hand to accept whatever DJ was offering. “What is it?"

  "Just some extra strength ibuprofen. If you wanted to wash it down with a beer, it wouldn't hurt."

  Joe smiled. “Really? I've never had a doc tell me anything like that. Not even once. And I'm pretty sure I'd remember if he had."

  An answering grin from DJ had blood throbbing in Joe's cock. The bar stool he sat on encouraged sprawling and Joe's legs were spread wide, with DJ standing almost close enough that Joe could enclose him with them if he tried. “It's an off-label prescription, and I can't give it to you officially. I've used it on myself, though, when I pull something."

  Their gazes met and held. For a long moment they looked into each others’ eyes, the tension building. It was Joe that couldn't stand it another second, finally, and broke the silence with a soft whisper. “If you ever pulled anything, I'd be happy to rub it for you. Any time."

  DJ stared back at him.

  What was he thinking? This was so wrong. Rule number one of cohabitation was don't screw up a decent roommate relationship with sex. A good roommate—unlike sex—wasn't something you could find just anywhere. But Joe was finally close enough to see what a pretty green DJ's eyes were, and he swallowed reflexively when DJ's tongue came out briefly to wet his lips.

  "You know what would be really good?"

  Gazes still locked, they were both held in place by the incredible sexual tension.

  "What?"

  That tongue flicked out again and Joe's dick twitched. God, if DJ wanted to—

  "—in the Jacuzzi."

  "I'm sorry. What?"

  "The Jacuzzi would loosen up those muscles right up for you. Have you tried it yet?"

  Could DJ be flirting with him? How could he test it to find out?

  "Is that a good idea if I've had alcohol?” Joe watched DJ's eyes because he sure as hell couldn't tell from the body language.

  "If you stick to one you should be fine. But just in case I could, uh, come along. To keep an eye on things."

  * * * *

  Bad idea. Bad idea. This is a really bad idea.

  DJ's conscience was talking to him as he followed Joe down the path to the communal hot tub maintained by the condo association. He had a Corona in one hand, while he tried vainly with the other to hold a towel in front of his crotch as he walked. Whatever Joe's shorts were made out of, they did nothing to camouflage the shape of his ass, hence the need to cover up what the sight of it was doing to DJ's front.

  "Is it always this deserted?"

  "Pretty much. Here, let me get the lock.” Stepping past Joe, DJ juggled his beer, his towel, and the keys while he tried like hell to ignore the wide expanse of nicely furred bare chest just inches away.

  Something smelled damn good—some combination of skin and soap and cologne. The artificial scents were faint, though, and it was the smell of warm, clean skin that teased DJ's nose most. Ignoring the impulse to lean down and get a taste of some of the smooth, dark shoulder so near, DJ pushed the gate open and held it long enough for Joe to pass.

  "This was a good idea. I'm glad you thought of it. I've been pushing it in too many directions at once—work, school, going out. It's nice to just relax and do nothing for once."

  They each set down their belongings long enough to ease themselves into the spa. Joe's groan of pleasure sounded almost sexual, and
DJ was happy to settle into the hot, bubbling water, finally free from the worry of Joe noticing his hard-on.

  "Sink down and see how much of your neck you can get under the water.” Better to pretend this was a professional consultation—think of Joe as just another client. Yeah, right.

  Joe let his body sink deeper into the water until only his head, and his arms hooked behind him on the spa's edge, rose above the water's surface. “That's nice."

  They both floated, Joe slowly rotating his head, working the sore muscles, and DJ found himself unconsciously mirroring Joe's pose by dropping lower into the water.

  The night was quiet. Faint sounds of a television from one townhome, while music from another drifted lightly on the night breeze. Closer, the churning of the spa's motor and bubbling of the water were soothing. Not exactly a mountain brook, but nice. Steam rose, disappearing into the night. DJ took a sip of his beer.

  "DJ, could I ask you a big favor?"

  Caught in mid-swallow, DJ took a second to respond. “Sure."

  "Could I get you to do that thing on my neck again? That really helped."

  Oh, man. This was trouble. The water, the darkness, the alcohol—it had all been working on DJ, too. As relaxed as he was, what if his hands wandered? No. He could do this. He touched attractive people every day as a regular part of his job. He could do this.

  Joe must have picked up DJ's hesitation, because he instantly apologized. “Oh, hey, I'm sorry, man. You probably get hit up all the time. You do that all day long and the last thing you want is people bugging you in your down-time. Forget it. The water's great—it's helping already."

  "No, no, that's okay. It's fine. I don't mind. Really."

  Dark eyes looked back at DJ doubtfully. “You're sure?"

  He was a sucker for dark eyes. Always had been, even back before he'd figured out it was specifically dark male eyes that turned his insides to mush. “Yeah, it's fine. C'mon, turn around."

  DJ reached to set his drink safely back away out of reach and by the time he'd turned back, Joe was presenting his back and shoulders to be rubbed.

  God.

  Finally an excuse to touch. All that lovely olive skin, bared to his touch. DJ bit down on his lip to keep himself from moaning in appreciation as he slid his hands onto Joe's shoulders and began rubbing.

  Smooth, like silk. Warm. Resilient. DJ used his fingers for leverage as he searched with his thumbs for the knots under the wet skin. It wasn't hard locating a pea-sized knot where he thought he'd felt one earlier. He pressed hard, getting an answering groan from Joe for his troubles, and smiled when the mass began to slowly dissolve.

  "Oh, that's nice. You've got great hands. I bet you hear that all the time.” Joe gave a full-body shudder and pressed back into DJ's hands. DJ had spread his legs to allow Joe to get close enough for DJ to reach and now Joe's ass—Joe's hard, muscular ass—was pressing against DJ's dick. His hard on, never very far away since he'd first touched Joe tonight, was back with a vengeance. “That feels so good."

  DJ's cock was throbbing now. Joe was too close; he felt too good beneath DJ's hands. Between DJ's legs. Joe was rolling his head slowly from side to side, stretching his sore muscles. But to DJ's yearning body, it looked like an invitation. A sexual invitation.

  So he stalled.

  "Yeah?"

  Joe moved his hands from his own thighs to DJ's. “Yeah.” And slowly rubbed his ass across DJ's cock.

  Whoa.

  Instant amnesia.

  He couldn't remember so much as his name, let alone why he was stupidly massaging shoulders instead of dick. “Joe?"

  The ass-on-cock rubbing paused. “Yeah?"

  "What are you doing?"

  "That depends. Do you like it?"

  DJ might be the world's worst at reading signs, but even he could tell that was an invitation. He dropped his hands to Joe's hips, holding on as he pressed up into that firm ass; stopped fighting the urge to taste that lovely skin spread out before him, and dropped his mouth to Joe's neck. On his way down he whispered, “Yeah, I do” into one perfect ear before nipping it with his teeth.

  Wrapping his arms around Joe's waist, DJ latched on to Joe's neck, alternately sucking and biting. Joe groaned, shifting in DJ's arms and tilting his neck to give DJ better access. DJ squeezed his legs, tightening them around Joe's. Some small remnant of DJ's rational mind tried to sound the alert that this was wrong—You don't make out with your roommate!—but it was shoved aside without the slightest remorse by DJ's raging libido.

  Slipping out of DJ's arms, Joe turned and hooked one hand behind DJ's neck. Lower bodies bumping up against each other, Joe smiled a little as he stroked the hair at DJ's nape. The fingers in DJ's hair sent shivers down his spine, and the weight of Joe's body as he let it press down on his put delicious pressure on DJ's cock.

  DJ realized he was rocking up against Joe, searching for something. Wordlessly Joe opened DJ's faded board shorts, wrapped one hand around DJ's dick, and squeezed; began slowly jacking him, from base to head and back again.

  That dark-eyed gaze never left his, just moved in close. And then they were kissing. Tongue sliding on tongue, lips and teeth clashing, and all the time that incredible feeling of Joe's hand on him. DJ's head was spinning.

  It felt too good. Too right. DJ kissed Joe back, wallowing in the feeling of a stubbled face kissing him, a hot male body grinding down on him, a tight fist jacking him. Joe groaned into DJ's mouth and that was all it took. DJ came, fucking the hand that continued working him until he slumped, wrung out and spent.

  * * * *

  "Whew. That was close. I was afraid they were going to call my mother—tell her I was out after curfew."

  Joe had been kissing DJ and reaching for DJ's hand to shove it down the front of his own shorts, when an older couple, a man and a woman, had come down to use the Jacuzzi themselves. They'd been strangers to Joe and he couldn't tell whether DJ knew them or not. Regardless, he and DJ had exchanged looks and silently agreed that maybe it was time to take the party private.

  "I dunno, Joe. I think she wanted you."

  Trying hard to contain his laughter, DJ was having way too much fun mocking him. Joe made a grab for the keys to let them back into the condo, but DJ saw it coming and blocked him easily, so Joe took his revenge by crowding in close behind as DJ worked and looking over DJ's shoulder. He let his hard on brush against DJ's butt, fighting the desire to shove both of their shorts down and let flesh meet flesh.

  "Cut it out. I can't concentrate."

  "Oh, sorry. Does that bother you?” Joe was lying—he wasn't at all sorry. DJ felt great, and Joe couldn't wait to get the rest of DJ's clothes off and finally get to explore.

  DJ pushed the door open, stepped through and pulled Joe in behind him. Joe's smile faded when DJ backed him up against the front door, letting the weight of Joe's body shut it the last couple of inches. DJ stepped closer still, eyes closing halfway as their chests touched and they just looked at each other, hands linked, pulses speeding up.

  When DJ's head lowered, Joe closed his eyes, expecting a kiss. Instead, DJ hooked his fingers in the waistband of Joe's shorts and dropped to his knees. Working the shorts down over Joe's erection, DJ shoved the navy blue material the rest of the way down and took Joe in hand.

  Joe had been hard since DJ first laid hands on him, out in the Jacuzzi and all the way back to the house. To finally have DJ's hands where he'd wanted them, touching him ... He'd been hot in the spa, chilled by the night air on his wet body, and now another new heat rolled over him at the sight of DJ gripping his dick like he would never let go.

  A hot, strong hand on him, DJ only paused a second to look up before opening his mouth and swallowing Joe down, and Joe was in heaven. Hot and moist and sheer fucking heaven. Holding him still with one hand on his hip, DJ sucked him, used tongue and lips like DJ couldn't get enough. Eyes closed, DJ sucked up to the head, let the ring formed by his lips catch on it, worked in short, shallow movements that took Joe righ
t up to the edge.

  DJ moaned a little as he took Joe deep, his lips meeting his fist, and the top of Joe's head nearly came off. The vibration traveled down his shaft and hummed through Joe's balls. DJ pulled off a little and Joe followed, thrusting in time with DJ's motion.

  Looking down through lids he could barely keep open, the sight of his dick disappearing into DJ's mouth sent a bolt of lust through Joe's body. “Oh, yeah, do it. That's so—"

  DJ shot him a look, eyes slitted in pleasure, and added a twist of the hand to his motion as he worked Joe's cock. Somehow he added even more suction, his cheeks hollowed with the effort, and Joe went off, shooting hard down DJ's throat.

  His knees a little wobbly, Joe was happy to let DJ lead him over to the couch, and even happier to lie down and let DJ wrap those strong arms around him. Joe closed his eyes, relaxed and happy, and let his mind drift. There had been something crazy hot about seeing DJ—All-American, straight-looking, frat boy handsome DJ—on his knees sucking him off. And there was something reassuring and ... comforting, almost ... about having DJ's arms around him. He could relax and just be. Joe shifted a bit, getting comfortable, twining his legs with DJ's, and let himself drift off.

  Sounds of a muffled argument on the sidewalk outside woke Joe. He lifted his head to listen, at first momentarily disoriented, then in searing pain as his already stiff neck let him know he'd be paying for his moment of romantic carelessness. Biting back curses as he laid his head carefully back on DJ's arm, Joe marshaled his thoughts.

  The voices outside moved on, leaving Joe to concentrate on what he'd done. He'd slept with his roommate. Literally.

  Rolling his head, carefully this time, back a bit, Joe looked at DJ in the filtered light from the street light outside that the living room blinds couldn't completely block. He looked ... Joe searched for the right word. Kinda normal. Yeah, normal. Like the nice guy he was.

  And wasn't that just Joe's problem in a nutshell?