Downward Facing Dreamboat

by Bru Baker

  Kincaid’s entire body tensed, and he cried out against Owen’s dick as his orgasm ripped through him. Owen sucked in a breath and pulled out of Kincaid’s mouth, his hand moving to fly against his cock as he painted come over Kincaid’s chest.

  Both of them were breathing heavily, the sound loud in the small changing room. Owen pressed a kiss to Kincaid’s neck and rolled to the side, spooning up against him. They were both covered in sweat and come, and Kincaid had never felt better.

  They stayed there, quietly regaining their breath in comfortable silence until their sweat had cooled and the stack of mats under them started to get uncomfortable.

  Owen propped his head up on his arm and stared down at Kincaid.

  “I’m glad you came tonight. Not that you needed to apologize—you didn’t. But I’m glad you made the first move because I couldn’t.”

  “I almost chickened out,” Kincaid admitted. “Like that first time. But I really wanted to make things right with you.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t chicken out.”

  Kincaid raised a hand to trace the shapes the low light cast on Owen’s face, and Owen ducked his head and kissed his knuckles.

  “I saw you get out of the car tonight,” Owen said. “I figured you’d wait to come in until everyone left. That’s why I was doing mayurasana. It’s called peacock pose because you look like a peacock when you do it. I was strutting for you, to catch your attention. It’s supposed to be an aphrodisiac.”

  Kincaid thought about how strong and sexy Owen had looked, muscles tensed and sheened with sweat.

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Owen grinned and kissed him softly. “I can teach it to you.”

  “Maybe someday, but for now I’d rather watch you do it.” Kincaid groaned and pulled himself into a sitting position. The yoga mat underneath him stuck to his sweaty back, peeling off with a disgusting squelch. “We’d better clean these or your boss will fire you.”

  “We definitely need to clean them up. Or I do, at least. Whoever closes wipes them all down at the end of the day anyway. Though it’s usually not because people had sex on them.”

  Kincaid grimaced and buried his face against Owen’s bare chest. “I’ve never had exhibitionist sex in a yoga studio before.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever done anything quite like this before either. Though I could get on board with ending my vinyasa class like this every time. The class is too advanced for you, though. Maybe I should date someone further in their practice.”

  Kincaid’s stomach swooped at the teasing words. He hadn’t known what to expect—if this was a one-off for Owen or not. He certainly didn’t want it to be a one-off.

  “So we’re dating?”

  “I hope so,” Owen said. He stood and then pulled Kincaid to his feet.

  “That’s incentive for me to work hard to improve my yoga practice, then,” Kincaid said. “I could get used to workouts ending like this. Especially if we lock the door next time.”

  Owen grinned and shook his head. “The studio door locks and the alarm sets automatically at eight thirty. There was never any risk of someone walking in.”

  Kincaid balked. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “Because it was hot as hell that you were so into me you were willing to risk it,” Owen replied with a smirk.

  He stepped into his shorts but left his shirt off. Kincaid approved. He hadn’t been clear-headed enough to appreciate Owen’s tattoos in the heat of the moment, but now he could see how all the intricate designs interlocked. One of them twined around his side, and he bet it continued on Owen’s back. Sometime he’d have to trace them all with his fingers. Or his tongue.

  “I’m assuming since you’re not panicking that you have the code to get out and relock it,” Kincaid said. He was hoping they could spend the night together, but sleeping on a pile of yoga mats didn’t sound very appealing. Then again, they’d been comfortable enough in the heat of the moment. If they were stuck there all night they’d just have to fill their time with sex.

  “I’ll do you one better,” Owen said, handing Kincaid his shorts and T-shirt and nuzzling against him. “How about we don’t reset the alarm and we go upstairs and spend the night in my bed?”

  He left Kincaid gaping after him as he disappeared into the curtained-off office where they’d had their first conversation.

  When he came back, he had a stack of towels and a spray bottle.

  “After I clean the mats,” he amended. “The owner is a stickler about cleanliness.”

  Kincaid watched him squat and spray a mat down, still confused. “You live upstairs?”

  “The apartment over the studio was part of the lease,” Owen said as he worked his way through the mats. “Seemed like a waste to leave it empty. This way I only have one rent payment instead of two. That’s a definite plus.”

  The words finally clicked. Kincaid knelt next to Owen and took a towel to start helping, if only to give himself something to do as his brain caught up. “The studio is yours?”

  “It is. I only teach a few of the classes, but I’m here all the time doing payroll and other things. Not that I mind, since it’s an easy commute.”

  He nodded toward a floor-to-ceiling corkboard by the front door with flyers and motivational posters tacked to it.

  “I had a concealed door installed so students wouldn’t know it was there. Most of the instructors don’t even know I live upstairs. I like my privacy. And you know how we talked about people crushing on their doctors? You wouldn’t believe how many middle-aged women have a yoga instructor fetish.”

  “Maybe they just have an incredibly hot yoga teacher,” Kincaid muttered, his eyes fluttering shut when Owen leaned in and kissed him.

  “But I never teach the Bikram classes,” Owen joked when they broke apart. “How did you put it when we met? I don’t want to sweat out my spleen.”

  Kincaid’s smile was so big his cheeks ached. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “My literal wet dream had finally walked into my studio. I remember everything about that conversation.”

  God, could he be more perfect?

  “I called you my dreamboat,” Kincaid confessed, cheeks heating. “When I used to come by to creep on you while you warmed up.”

  Owen’s laugh made Kincaid’s bones melt. He sounded so happy—and Kincaid was the one who’d made it happen. It was exhilarating.

  “You’re much more of a wordsmith than me. I just called you hot commuter guy.”

  Kincaid finished the last mat and tossed the towel at Owen. It had the studio’s logo embroidered on it.

  “I’m shocked. You’re telling me the guy whose yoga studio is named Hangin’ With My H-ohm-ies isn’t good with words?”

  “In my defense, it’s harder than you’d think to find a good yoga studio name that isn’t already taken.”

  Kincaid laughed. “I love it, actually. It fits, now that I know you own the place. It’s cheesy but cute. Very you.”

  Owen made a face. “And what does that say about you, huh? You dating the guy who came up with that cheesy and cute name.”

  Kincaid took the hand Owen offered him to lead him to the hidden door to his apartment. He liked the way Owen twined their fingers together, like any space between them was an insult.

  “It says I’m a lucky guy. My dreamboat is cheesy and cute and hot as hell, plus he’s smart and kind.”

  Owen’s eyes were bright as he pressed on the corkboard. The board popped open, revealing a door that Kincaid would never have found without help. Like he’d never have found Owen without help from a broken ankle and a pushy sister.

  “Think maybe you can stay and take the morning class? I have one at six, so you should still be able to make it to work on time.”

  Kincaid grinned. “Sure. The studio’s really close to my boyfriend’s apartment.”

  Chapter Five: Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose

  OWEN’S APARTMENT smelled like the teakwood inc
ense the studio burned downstairs during classes. It was different from the heavy musk of the patchouli the studio Kincaid had been going to recently used, and he liked it.

  He followed Owen into the kitchen and accepted the glass of water Owen poured him. He was too transfixed on the way Owen’s throat worked as he drank to take a sip of his own.

  “I should have asked you if you wanted something other than water,” Owen said, grimacing. “I have beer, some juice of unknown vintage—”

  Kincaid took a slow drink, enjoying the way Owen’s gaze fixated on his lips and then his throat.

  “I wasn’t objecting to the water. I was just distracted.”

  Owen’s face bloomed into an adorable smile.

  “I’ve never had anyone over to the apartment, so my hosting skills are a little rusty. I want to make sure you feel welcome.”

  He’d never brought anyone else up here? The butterflies that had fluttered in Kincaid’s stomach at Owen’s smile multiplied into a swarm.

  “I feel plenty welcome.”

  Kincaid slanted around Owen to put his empty glass in the sink. Owen leaned in and caught him in a sweet, lingering kiss that made Kincaid’s toes tingle.

  “I’d like to welcome you to the shower so we can clean up and get to bed,” Owen said when he pulled away. “As much as I’d love a round two, I have to get some sleep.”

  Kincaid grinned. “How about we shower together to save some time?”

  Owen laughed and grabbed Kincaid’s hand. “I like your optimism.”

  The wooden floor in the small hallway that led to Owen’s bedroom was warped and squeaky, nothing like the immaculately finished floor downstairs. Kincaid was so caught up in Owen’s nearness that he stumbled twice, and by the time they tumbled through the door to Owen’s bathroom, they were both breathless with laughter.

  “Balance is definitely something we’re going to work on with you,” Owen teased.

  The shower was so small it was a miracle Owen could fit in it by himself—there was no way they were going to be able to get in it together. Owen’s laughter made a lot more sense now.

  “So no multitasking?”

  Owen turned on the spray and cranked the handle as far as it would go. “Afraid not. Though there may only be enough hot water for one shower, so we could make the best of it and consider it foreplay.”

  Kincaid eyed the shower stall skeptically. “There’s no way two of us are getting in there.”

  “Get in and rinse off before it turns cold,” Owen said. “Help yourself to soap and shampoo. I’ll get you a towel.”

  Kincaid didn’t waste any time stripping and stepping into the shower. The building was old, and he doubted Owen was kidding about the hot water supply. He’d given himself a quick wash and was rinsing the suds out of his hair when Owen came back in with a towel for him.

  “Still pretty warm.” He stepped out and let Owen wrap him in a towel. It was strangely comforting. No one had done that for him since he was a child.

  “Better take advantage, then,” Owen answered. He stripped off his yoga gear and climbed in, his face pointed right into the spray.

  His muscles bunched and flexed as he raised his hands to run his fingers through his hair, and suddenly Kincaid understood how showering separately could be foreplay. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever watched, and Owen wasn’t even trying to be sexy. But being in that small space with him and knowing Owen trusted him enough to close his eyes and shower—it was an unexpected turn-on.

  A shiver ran down Kincaid’s spine when Owen opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on him.

  Owen was done long before Kincaid had looked his fill. He grabbed the towel that was slung over the glass door and rubbed it through his hair. Rivulets ran down his chest as he tucked the towel around his waist, but Kincaid didn’t care that he was wet when Owen pulled him close and kissed him senseless.

  “Sometime I want to do that again at my place,” Kincaid murmured when Owen released him. “I have a shower plenty big enough for two.”

  “I like the sound of that plan.”

  Owen led him back into the bedroom, and this time Kincaid took a moment to look around. It was pretty spare, like the rest of the apartment. Owen had a large bed and a dresser, but the rest of the room was filled with boxes.

  “The studio doesn’t have a lot of storage,” Owen explained when he saw Kincaid’s curious glance. “I keep meaning to spruce the place up, but honestly I’m only here to sleep, so it’s never really been a priority.”

  Kincaid wanted to do a hell of a lot more than sleep, but the long day and his anxiety over coming to talk to Owen was catching up with him. He stifled a yawn with his hand, but not before Owen saw it.

  “C’mon,” Owen said, dropping his towel and sliding into bed. He held up the comforter and Kincaid followed suit, slotting himself into the space Owen had left.

  He wasn’t much of a cuddler, but being pressed up against Owen’s shower-damp skin felt heavenly. Kincaid wasn’t the kind of guy who fell asleep quickly, but apparently Owen was. He mumbled something about the alarm being set already and was out in seconds.

  Kincaid was content to listen to the even sound of Owen’s breathing in the dark room. Normally his mind raced, but it was quiet tonight. It was nice to relax and enjoy being in the moment. Be at peace with the world around you and your place in it, his yoga teacher liked to say during savasana. It was corny as hell, but it was something Kincaid needed to hear. Hell, maybe yoga really was helping him.

  He fell asleep with a smile on his face, and the next time he opened his eyes it was to the sight of Owen leaning over him to fumble with the alarm. The room was still cast in shadows from the pearly light outside, and Kincaid groaned and put an arm over his eyes.

  “What time is it?”

  Owen won his battle with the alarm and collapsed back into bed, half on top of Kincaid.

  “Five. I have a class in forty-five minutes. I have to go down and open the studio.”

  Kincaid considered himself an early riser, but this was beyond the pale. “You get up too early. I’m reconsidering our relationship.”

  Owen burrowed into Kincaid’s armpit and sighed. “I hate getting up this early. But there’s this hot guy who walks by every morning at about seven. He makes it worth it.”

  “The early morning yoga instructor is pretty delicious too.”

  Kincaid was tempted to kiss the sleepy smirk off Owen’s face, but another alarm blared from Owen’s nightstand. Owen rolled over and turned it off.

  “That’s my get-up-now-if-you-want-breakfast alarm.” He stood up and hit another button on his phone. “Trust me when I say you really don’t want to hear the last-ditch panic alarm that keeps me from oversleeping and forgetting to open the studio.”

  It was endearing that Owen had to set so many alarms to get himself up every morning. Knowing he wasn’t one of those chipper morning people made Kincaid like him even more.

  Owen tugged on a pair of body-hugging shorts and slid his feet into a pair of sandals.

  Kincaid sat up in bed. “Wait, no underwear?”

  “Not when I’m wearing compression shorts. They’re made to go commando. It’s more comfortable that way.”

  Great. Now all Kincaid was going to be able to think about during class was the fact that Owen wasn’t wearing anything under those tight shorts.

  “I can see I’ve blown your mind,” Owen said with a laugh. “I’m going to go make some coffee. Is toast okay?”

  Toast was fine. And so was Owen’s ass in those shorts. Kincaid managed a squeak of assent, which made Owen laugh even harder.

  “Help yourself to clothes,” he called out after he’d disappeared through the door.

  Kincaid stood up and poked his way through the drawer Owen’s yoga shorts had come from. He had looser shorts like the ones Kincaid usually wore, but there was also a pair of the compression shorts Owen was wearing. He was curious about how comfortable they were, but the real reason he pull
ed them on was to fight fire with fire.

  They weren’t quite as form-fitting as the bike shorts he wore when he did triathlons, and the material was soft. He could see why Owen liked them.

  The toast was done when he wandered out into the kitchen. Owen’s eyes widened in appreciation when he noticed what Kincaid had chosen to wear, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I need to get down there and open the studio, but you can stay up here till class if you like.”

  He poured coffee into a travel mug and added a generous amount of cream and sugar. “If anyone asks, I tell them this is green tea,” he said as he screwed the lid on. “Cuts down on the judgment.”

  “Your studio name is a terrible pun. How judgy could your students be? It’s not like they didn’t know what a goofball the owner was when they signed up.”

  Owen cast a dark look at Kincaid as he poured him a mug. “One, it’s a solid pun. And two, trust me when I say you don’t want to get into an argument with one of those women. Most of my students are awesome, don’t get me wrong. But the kind of person who will pick a fight with you about what’s in your mug? Not worth it. Steer clear of the sancti yogis.”

  Kincaid paused halfway through adding cream to his coffee. “Sancti yogis?”

  “Sanctimonious yogis. In my experience almost always middle-aged women, but that could be the area we’re in, I don’t know. But they likely came to yoga in their thirties, and it became an obsession for them. They have all the newest, most expensive gear, they try to push their practice past what they’re ready for because they want to do something Instagrammable, and they are super judgy about everything. They take the ‘your body is a temple’ thing too far.”

  “So no coffee.”

  “No carbs, no gluten, no sugar, no preservatives. It changes faster than I can keep up. But one constant seems to be no coffee.”

  Kincaid took a sip and shrugged. “I’m team Always Coffee.”

  “Same.”

  Kincaid drank his coffee while Owen finished his toast, both of them standing at the kitchen counter. It was easy and domestic, which was strange. They’d only spent one night together, but Kincaid was more comfortable with Owen than he had been with guys he’d dated for months. Of course, he’d never quasi stalked one of his boyfriends before. He and Owen might have just started their relationship, but they’d been in each other’s orbits for a hell of a lot longer than one night.