Bad Boyfriend

by K.A. Mitchell

  Eli put his hand on Quinn’s chest and traced down, finding a silky path that tingled his fingers, urging him lower. Hell yeah, a happy trail. When he closed his hand around Quinn’s dick, he felt the heat and rush of blood. “What were you saying about fucking me?”

  Quinn made Eli ride him, and any idea Eli had about being in more control of the fuck disappeared along with Quinn’s dick into Eli’s ass. Strong hands yanked him down to meet every thrust. For the first few minutes, the sting from being stretched again so soon kept Eli from doing anything but letting Quinn fill him with hard slams and soft praise.

  “That’s it, honey. Good boy. You’re taking my cock so good.”

  Quinn angled Eli’s hips farther back so that the thrusts drove right against his gland, a sharp, bright build of pleasure, and Eli was doing more than taking it. He ground down, worked his ass muscles until Quinn grunted.

  “Jesus, you’re a hot fuck.” Quinn held on to Eli’s hips and shifted them, tipping Eli onto his side and kneeling between his legs without missing a stroke.

  Eli’s calf pressed into an inked shoulder as Quinn held him open for long, deep rolls of his hips, touching all the places inside Eli that ached for this, to let someone take it, take him.

  “Harder.”

  “I told you. Daddy’s driving.” Quinn’s lips barely turned up at the corner, the look in his eyes so hard and focused Eli wrenched his gaze away.

  Quinn stopped moving. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.”

  Quinn took a slow stroke.

  “Fuck me. C’mon.”

  “I’ve got you, honey.” Quinn reached for Eli’s cock, fingers gliding slick and sure with lube and sweat and precome.

  Eli wanted the Daddy with the hard edges, thick cock and heavy hands that gave him something to work against, a sting and slap to push him over the edge. Didn’t want these perfectly angled strokes to drive him out of his mind, or the big hand that gave his dick the right kind of friction to make his balls draw up tight and good and ready to go. And shit it felt perfect, because as much as he didn’t want it, Quinn was making him take it. Making Eli come sweet and soft and shaking instead of lunging out to grab at the dizzying power before it passed him by.

  “That’s it, honey. Come for me. Want to watch you come.”

  Quinn forced it into him with his eyes and his touch and his dick until Eli couldn’t take anymore and he was so full sensation tore him apart, flooding his dick and ass with pleasure as it let go, hot and wet. He came forever, and it still wasn’t enough. His eyes stung, and he thought he’d gotten come in them and realized they were tears.

  Quinn must not have seen them. “Beautiful. Jesus, Eli. You’re—”

  Quinn turned him again, face down, and it should have been better, because this was the way he liked it, a man driving him hard into the mattress. But Quinn scooped him into his arms and held him as he drove home with his last thrusts.

  “Fucking gorgeous coming for me. So goddamned sweet.” Quinn’s mouth was sloppy and open on Eli’s neck, breath louder than the words. With a grunt that sounded like Quinn had been punched, Quinn jerked fast and tight against him.

  Eli’s heart raced long after Quinn settled them both back onto the bed. It throbbed in his ears and his toes, a hot urgent alarm that only pounded louder as Quinn stroked his back and whispered more praise. Eli called himself crazy and he called himself stupid, told himself to calm the fuck down right now, but nothing could convince his body he hadn’t downed three energy shots and his heart was going to slam right out of his chest.

  In the deep exhalations that cooled the skin under the hair stuck to Eli’s neck, he heard the stillness of two in the morning times two orgasms catch up to Quinn.

  “Something wrong?” Some force was left in Quinn’s sleepy voice, a solid promise to fix whatever was creating the tension in Eli’s body.

  “No.” That was the truth. He’d just had amazing sex—twice—with an apparently nice guy who found his company pleasant enough to drag him along as a buffer against the boredom of some family event, and there was nothing wrong with any of it. “Just wired.”

  “Hmm. Wake me up if you jerk off. Want to watch.”

  The laugh came out despite Eli’s chest being so full of his stupid racing heart. “I will.”

  Chapter Five

  Quinn woke to the smell of coffee and an empty bed. He’d felt Eli get up early in the morning but had fallen back asleep before finding out if Eli came back. As fidgety as his guest had been, Quinn wouldn’t be surprised to discover Eli had taken a cab or public transportation back downtown.

  But as he hitched up a pair of jeans and followed the coffee smell downstairs to his kitchen, Quinn hoped he was wrong. Not only because he had the baptism to attend, but as good as things had been with Eli last night, Quinn couldn’t shake the sensation of unfinished business.

  Eli wasn’t gone. Dressed only in the black overshirt he’d worn last night, he stretched on his toes to search one of Quinn’s cabinets.

  The sight sent blood pulsing to his sensitive cock, which tried to reclaim the morning wood he’d fought with as he peed, but Quinn had to curse the fact that he wasn’t twenty anymore, couldn’t simply slide up, bend Eli over the counter and give him the pounding that outfit deserved. The shirt skimmed his hips, and Eli’s pale legs made the splash of red on his ass stand out more. A few darker spots that might have been bruises spotted the crease where ass met thigh. Spots from Quinn’s fingertips.

  He should have been ashamed of leaving marks on that fair skin instead of frustrated by his dick’s slow response. But he wasn’t. The sight made him proud, God help him, proud that Eli would be wearing a piece of last night for a few days. Maybe caffeine would help more than just his brain function.

  “Thanks for making coffee.” He unhooked his mug from under a cabinet and poured himself a cup.

  He’d wondered if Eli had heard him coming and posed like that, hoping Quinn would take advantage of the geography, but when Eli turned around, his face was wary. The eyeliner was gone, and damn if he didn’t look younger. What the hell would Claire say when she saw him?

  “What time do you have to be at the thing? The baptism?”

  “You live downtown?”

  Eli nodded.

  Quinn checked his watch. “We’ve got at least an hour.”

  “I was going to make eggs.” Eli gestured at the pan on the stove and the carton on the counter.

  “Or you could go back to bed. Seems like you didn’t sleep much.”

  Eli’s shoulders were tense under a shrug. “There’ll be lots of time to sleep when I’m—”

  “Older?” Quinn suggested dryly.

  Eli gave him a half smile. “I was going to say dead, but old will do, old man.”

  Something vulnerable behind Eli’s smile reminded Quinn of a wild animal, trapped and ready to bolt. He tried to keep up the teasing. “And what would your mother say if she knew you were cavorting half-naked in the kitchen of a much older man?”

  Eli turned back to the cabinet. “Don’t you have any tarragon?”

  “What?”

  “Tarragon. It’s really good in scrambled eggs.”

  Quinn crossed to him and reached into the back of the spices. “Here.”

  Eli looked up at him. “What kind of man actually uses cavorting in a sentence?”

  “The one attached to this.” Teasing hadn’t worked, so Quinn went for what did. He grabbed Eli’s hand and put it on the fly of his jeans.

  “Oh. That.” Eli’s palm opened, rubbed warm and slow.

  Quinn’s dick got hot and tight, skin stretching again under the steady pump of blood. Sore but good. He moved Eli’s hand back to the counter edge, pinned the one on the other side and, ignoring a little morning stiffness, dropped to his knees.

  Eli’s gasp made him look up. “Umm. The eggs.”

  Quinn rolled the tip of Eli’s cock over his lips, skin pulsing and twitching as he kissed his way down to the base a
nd then leaned back.

  “A guy could get a complex. Is there some reason you don’t want me to suck you?”

  Eli shook his head, eyes wide.

  “Okay then.” Quinn buried his face between the lean hips, sliding his hands around Eli’s ass.

  Another, sharper gasp, and Eli bucked forward as Quinn’s fingers gripped. He knew what Eli wanted. Christ, what they both wanted.

  “Keep those hands on the counter.”

  Eli’s breath stuttered out, and he didn’t offer any other resistance as Quinn learned the taste and smell of Eli’s skin, the way his cock fit in Quinn’s mouth, a nice downward angle to push it toward his throat.

  Quinn’s mouth and hands and ears drank in Eli’s reactions, his expressive body so much easier to read than the constant shift of emotions in his face. He did like it rough, moaned and fed Quinn some precome for a light scrape of teeth as Quinn laid his finger over the line of bruises under the firm swell of Eli’s ass. He loved a hard fast suck and pressure on the head more than a deep bob, shuddered for a tug and lift on his balls.

  “Wait. Quinn. Condom.”

  Quinn pulled off for a second. Fucking was one thing, but this was his risk to take, and he wanted the raw taste of him. “Shh. It’s okay.”

  Fingers diving back to run down the crease of Eli’s ass, Quinn showed off what Eli’s body had taught until tension vibrated in the thighs under Quinn’s forearms, a warning throb in the vein under his tongue.

  “Shit, I’m—”

  Even if Eli’s warning had been quicker, Quinn wasn’t going anywhere. He drank in the spurts from Eli’s cock, softening the pressure as the spasms ended, swallowed and licked him clean.

  After climbing to his feet, he put his hands over Eli’s where they gripped the edge of old Formica. “Everything about you is sweet, boy.”

  Before Quinn could kiss him, Eli wrenched a hand free and put it on Quinn’s mouth.

  “I know from experience that’s not quite true, but thanks.” Eli slid the hand down Quinn’s jaw, his neck, his chest. As Eli’s fingers worked the top button of the fly on Quinn’s jeans, Eli rubbed his face on Quinn’s chest.

  His cock had recovered from last night now, but Quinn stepped back. “I need some breakfast if I’m going to keep up with you.”

  As Quinn shaved, a dressed Eli came into his shower-steamed bathroom holding the suit Quinn had just gotten back from the cleaners.

  “Is this what you’re wearing?”

  It was a respectable dark gray, and he’d worn it to job interviews—including the one for his job now. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. If it’s a funeral.”

  Quinn studied Eli in his club clothes. There wasn’t a whole lot of damage the guy could do with only Quinn’s closet to work from, and showing off was kind of the point. “I’m guessing you have a different suggestion?”

  Eli grinned and disappeared. When Quinn came back into the bedroom, Eli was all the way inside the closet.

  “Your shoes are black, right?” Without waiting for an answer, Eli flung out a pair of black slacks. “Oh my God.” Eli tossed a shiny red gift box into Quinn’s chest. “Who was that from and how do I get on her gift list?”

  Quinn caught the sweater as it fell out of the box. Black with a dark purple and gray argyle pattern. His yearly sweater from Claire, though he suspected Alyssa might have guided her selection that time.

  “It’s cashmere,” Eli pronounced as if announcing it was made of solid gold.

  “Yes.”

  “Put that on. And…” He went back into the closet.

  Quinn’s lips quirked since the whole point of this was his own re-coming out. To cover the smile, he said, “You know, I prefer a guy as hot as you undressing me instead.”

  “Later. If you’re lucky.” Eli produced a medium-gray sport coat. “There.”

  “Well?” Eli asked as Quinn stood in front of his mirror a minute later.

  Although Quinn was viewing the whole experience as an odd kind of performance, he had to admit Eli had an eye for putting things together.

  “It looks nice. Classy.” It felt odd to not be wearing a tie, the V-neck of the sweater exposing his throat.

  Eli met his gaze in the mirror. “And not too queer, right?” His lips quirked, then his eyes widened. “They do know? Your family?”

  “Yes.” At least the ones who counted as family.

  “Well, they will if you walk in with me.” Eli’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you wanted me to come?”

  Christ, he was sharp. Did being a photographer give him an ability to see things better? Quinn smoothed a narrow lapel along his chest. “Will you still come if I say that’s part of it?”

  Eli studied him for a minute, their eyes both on the mirror. “They know, but it’s a don’t-talk-about-it thing, is that it?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Sure.” Eli smiled. “I like being the center of attention.” He turned away from the mirror and looked directly at Quinn. The assessing stare felt uncomfortably pointed without their reflections as a buffer. After a few seconds, Eli’s eyes softened and he put his hands on Quinn’s shoulders. “I wish I could do something about your hair, but I’m afraid that exceeds my ability.” He reached around to flick at the tiny curl in the band.

  With time and a lack of parking an issue, Eli left Quinn driving around the block, promising to be out in fifteen minutes. So Eli almost dropped his towel on his pass through the living room when he found Quinn taking up a huge amount of the tiny space.

  “I found a parking spot. Marcy let me in.” Quinn nodded at Eli’s new roommate.

  Eli’s friend Casey had gone down to North Carolina to finish her masters in some kind of ology. Eli was glad she’d figured out what she wanted to do, but her replacement had seriously screwed up the household dynamics. If he had to attend another house meeting that turned into a discussion on the proper disposal of feminine supplies—which, hello, he ought to be excused from—he was going to puke. Eli forced a smile for Marcy and darted into his tiny bedroom.

  Now that Quinn had admitted why he was dragging Eli along to the family event, he’d already planned what he’d wear, and it only took him a few minutes to throw it on. Long enough though for Marcy to move from the couch to a few inches from Quinn’s nose. God, was she that clueless or just pathetic? Eli came out and slipped his hand into Quinn’s.

  Quinn threaded their fingers together. His eyes sparkled as he brought Eli’s knuckles to his mouth to brush a kiss on them. “Ready?”

  Eli grinned back. “If you are.”

  “Did you forget your eyeliner, Eli?” Marcy’s smile showed teeth.

  It was on the tip of Eli’s tongue to ask if Marcy had forgotten the name of a salon to get her eyebrows waxed, but he was trying hard to be nice.

  “Thanks for letting me in, Marcy,” Quinn offered, and then they were through the door and down the stairs. “Your housemate. I—”

  “Go ahead, say it.”

  “God, she’s really a bitch.”

  “Damn, now I owe you two blowjobs.” Eli stopped on the stair above and gave Quinn a quick kiss that turned into something a lot longer and nicer than he’d planned. Quinn let Eli do the work, and it felt strange to be the one hanging on and pushing his tongue into a different texture and taste. Strange but good enough to make his gut flood with heat and want. He let Quinn go, studying his face as he straightened. His eyes stayed shut for a second, and when they opened, their attention went right to Eli’s lips.

  The look stayed soft as Quinn put a thumb on Eli’s mouth. “I think I’ll try for a week’s worth.” He smoothed the hood of the sweater hanging over the collar of Eli’s denim blazer. “I like you better in your fuck-me clothes…” he tucked Eli’s bangs behind his ear, “…but you still look—”

  “If you’re serious about a blowjob, do not say cute.”

  “Hot.”

  Eli shook his hair free until it hung across his face. “Nice save.”

>   They were late. Since that was pretty much standard in Eli’s world, it didn’t bother him much. Besides, it wasn’t his party. He wasn’t about to blame it on Quinn pinning him up against the counter, because, hey, blowjob. But there was the fact that Quinn hadn’t stayed in the car like Eli told him to. He couldn’t exactly say why that irritated him so much, the sight of Quinn taking up all that space in the living room, knowing that Eli had a SpongeBob towel, or that his room at the front of the apartment was barely larger than the full-sized mattress on the floor. Yeah, that annoyed him enough to drop all the blame on Quinn.

  Of course, Quinn might blame it on the fact that Eli got out of the car and stared up at the big stone edifice, the rosette stained glass and the label of St. Agnes Roman Catholic Church.

  “Catholic?” He’d been expecting Episcopal or one of the other nice denominations that didn’t immediately assume he’d burn in hell forever because he had sex with men. Hadn’t Quinn said his family knew he was gay?

  “Coming?” Quinn looked back.

  Not for awhile. Just the presence of all that disapproval would be enough to keep his dick soft for hours. Eli caught up to him.

  Things hadn’t started yet, but there was a hush of expectation as they hurried down the center aisle. Quinn seemed to be headed into a pew about halfway back from the sparkling gold stuff on the altar when an older woman stepped out from the second row and gestured to them. Well, to Quinn. Though she smiled as she let Eli move past her and her matching purse and shoes and husband to the inside of the pew. Quinn’s mom—if that’s who the lady was—had silvered blonde hair and fairly decent fashion sense.

  As soon as Eli’s ass hit the hard wooden bench, the contact reminded him exactly what he’d been doing the night before. He could see the rationale behind church construction, the suffering guy staring out at you while you suffered on really hard wood after a fun weekend. Enough to bring on the guilt.

  “Uncle Winn.” A sweet-sticky breath hit Eli’s cheek, and Quinn turned to the pew behind them.

  “Hey, Tommy the Terror.” Quinn reached back for the toddler who was no doubt aptly named, as he was standing on his mother’s nice skirt.