by L. A. Witt
He released a breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s been a different kind of day.”
“Seems like you could use days like this more often.”
“Who couldn’t?”
“Fair point.” Andre didn’t turn away.
Joel fidgeted under his scrutiny. “You keep looking at me like that.”
“Looking at you how?”
“Like that.”
“Like . . .”
“Like that.”
Andre opened his mouth to speak. Hesitated. Then, “I guess I keep looking at you like this because I really, really want to kiss you.”
Joel’s heart flipped. “You . . . you do?”
Andre nodded. “A lot.”
Joel stared at him. “Why?”
“Why?” Andre laughed, but immediately sobered, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. I . . . I guess I just can’t imagine why I wouldn’t, you know?”
Joel blinked. He had no idea how to respond.
Andre took a breath. “You remember that night at my place?”
A shiver ran right down to Joel’s toes. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Me too.” He paused. “That answer your question?”
“No, but . . .” Joel laughed, breaking eye contact. “I’m probably being dense, but I’m, uh, kind of having a tough time thinking right now.”
“Why’s that?”
Joel swallowed again. “Because I’m really, really hoping you’ll kiss me.”
A hint of surprise flickered across Andre’s face, but then he grinned. “Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Without another word, Andre cradled the back of Joel’s head, leaned in, and kissed him.
Out in public, right there in front of God and anyone who turned their attention away from the concert, Andre kissed him.
Joel melted against him. Holy fuck. This. This was what he’d been craving, what had driven him to distraction ever since that night at the dungeon. He could dress it up any way he wanted, tell himself he’d just been horny and needing the touch of any guy who’d give him the time of day, but it all boiled down to Andre.
Sitting there kissing him, Joel was right back in room three at the dungeon and in Andre’s bedroom, disbelieving and so aroused he couldn’t think straight. For a man whose hands were calloused from a flogger and from ropes, Andre was a tender kisser. He was gentle, attentive, and not the least bit domineering. The way he kissed was fucking addictive—Joel could’ve spent the whole night savoring the soft unhurried brush of Andre’s lips across his and the way he teased with his tongue.
Andre broke the kiss. The strobes and spotlights reflecting on his face reminded Joel that the concert was still happening. Despite the bass thumping in his ears and vibrating up through his bones, he’d all but forgotten they were out here on the grass, surrounded by people.
“I’ve been thinking about you nonstop,” Andre said, his voice barely carrying over the music.
“Me too.”
Andre ran his fingers through Joel’s hair. “I know we’re not . . . I mean, we’re . . .” He shook his head and sighed. “But I just can’t stop thinking about you.”
God. Yes. Andre was tripping over him as much as he was tripping over Andre?
But . . .
Joel pulled back. “Except we’re not compatible. We both know that.”
“We’re compatible enough to find a flat surface and make each other come.”
Joel’s pulse soared. “That’s . . . that’s a good point.”
“I don’t really care if this can or can’t work, or why,” Andre said. “All I know is I want you tonight.”
Joel didn’t answer. He just drew Andre into another kiss.
He didn’t know where they’d end up. His place? Andre’s? The backseat of a carelessly unlocked car in the parking lot? Whatever. All he knew was this night wasn’t ending without a repeat of the last time.
Tomorrow, they’d walk away again, and they’d probably drive themselves insane up until the next time their paths crossed. For tonight, though, he was going to enjoy every inch of Andre and every minute of the mind-blowing sex they’d have, and he wasn’t going to feel bad about it.
“We should get out of here,” he said.
“Mm-hmm.” Andre glanced toward the stages, then met his gaze. “Sure you don’t want to wait for Schadenfreude?”
“I’ve got their albums, and they come through here twice a year. Let’s go.”
Joel collapsed on his back on Andre’s bed, sweating and completely spent.
Then Andre dropped onto the mattress beside him.
“Holy fuck,” Andre murmured.
“Seriously.”
When Andre rose to toss the condom, Joel forced himself upright long enough to clean himself up. Then he fell back into bed again, and Andre was right behind him.
After a while, Joel turned his head. “I thought Doms didn’t suck dick.”
Andre grinned. “Doms do whatever the fuck they want. And I happen to enjoy sucking dick.” He ran a hand up Joel’s thigh. “And fucking you. I definitely enjoy fucking you.”
“Good.” Joel wiped a hand over his face. “Lemme catch my breath, and then you can fuck me again.”
“Love the sound of that,” Andre groaned. “But yeah . . . gimme a minute or two.”
“Good plan. Real good plan.” Joel closed his eyes. God, he felt great.
He opened his eyes. A second later, right? Wait . . . no. He could’ve sworn they were relaxing and catching their breath, and now it felt like time had passed. How much, he had no idea. Had he drifted off?
“What time is it?” he mumbled.
Beside him, Andre’s eyes fluttered open. “Hmm?”
“Think I fell asleep.”
Andre scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, me too.” He turned to Joel with a sleepy grin on his lips. “Guess you wore me out.”
Joel laughed. “Mission accomplished, right?”
“Mm-hmm.” Andre kissed him lightly. “Might not have enough left to fuck you again tonight.”
“I’m not sure I have enough left to take it.”
“Yeah, that’s fair. It was a long day.”
“And a nice long fuck.”
“Uh-huh.”
Relaxing back onto the pillows, Joel smiled as he ran his hand up and down Andre’s arm. A day of sun, beer, and music, and it all ended with him and Andre tangled up in sweaty sheets. With every inch of his body tingling and aching with pure, bone-deep satisfaction.
Life really didn’t get much better than this.
Andre turned on his side. “Today was nice.” He stroked Joel’s hair. “You seemed like you were having a good time too.”
“I did. Present company just made it better.”
“Mm-hmm. Definitely.”
“Even if I dragged you out of there before the final act?”
Andre laughed. “Yeah, you really had to twist my arm.” He paused. “To be serious, it was great to see you having a good time.” He smoothed Joel’s cheek. “It’s such a switch from how I used to see you at the dungeon.”
“Tell me about it.” Joel exhaled. “It’s so weird not feeling like I’m walking on eggshells.”
Andre scowled. “You shouldn’t have to feel that way.”
“I shouldn’t have stayed with Rob for as long as I did, but there it is.” He paused. “Speaking of, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When Rob and I were together, you sometimes came in and watched our scenes.” Joel lifted himself up onto his elbow. “But you were never there when they were over.”
Something flickered across Andre’s face. “I couldn’t stay.”
“Why not?”
Andre didn’t answer immediately. After a solid thirty seconds had gone by, he spoke again. “I came in to watch sometimes because I wanted to watch you. But I couldn’t stay because of him. And . . .”
He hesitated. “The thing is, most subs relax to the point of turning into a wet noodle. But you—there was always some tension in your body and in your expression. Like you weren’t as into it as he was.” He paused. “Like you didn’t want to be there.”
“I didn’t.”
“So I gather.”
“In fact, I hated the idea of going back even after Rob, but I missed visiting people. At least I know if I want to go hang out with my friends there, I don’t have to worry about him.”
Andre snorted. “We’re all glad about that, believe me. Everyone was thrilled when he was banned.”
“Took long enough,” Joel muttered.
“Yeah, I know.” Andre touched Joel’s arm. “To be honest, we wanted to boot him out from the start, and God knows we had plenty of reasons to. It was discussed many, many times.”
Joel’s cheeks burned. He hated the idea of so many people discussing his relationship behind closed doors. “So why didn’t you kick him out?”
Andre swallowed. “The biggest fear among the group was that if we gave Rob the boot, he’d just scene with you at home alone. And without other people hovering around to enforce rules about consent and good behavior, it was anyone’s guess what might happen to you.”
“You’re assuming it wasn’t happening already.”
“No. We weren’t.” Andre met his gaze. “We were just afraid it would get worse.”
“It did. Trust me.”
“I believe it.” Andre sighed. “Anyway, once everyone realized you had left, and we were sure you were staying gone, he was banned.”
“Sure I was staying gone?”
“Yeah.” He squeezed Joel’s arm, the contact striking Joel as protective as it was affectionate. “You wouldn’t be the first person to go back to an abusive partner. We just wanted to make sure you were really out before we pissed him off like that.”
“Much appreciated.” Joel waved his hand. “But it’s over. It’s done. And . . . now here we are.”
“Yeah. Here we are.” Andre swallowed. “Again.”
“Again.”
“So what now?”
“I don’t know.” Joel’s pulse pounded in his ears. “Maybe this is enough.”
Andre turned to him, and Joel’s heart sank. One look in Andre’s eyes, and he could already hear the unspoken No, this isn’t enough.
Andre sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Don’t get me wrong—I do enjoy vanilla. Sometimes. I can be totally satisfied by it sometimes.”
Joel’s heart sank deeper.
“I like it,” Andre said. “I’m not complaining in the slightest about the sex we just had. Or what we’ve done before. But we both know there are things I want that you don’t. I’m still a sadist, Joel. I’m still a Dom. That’s not going to change, just like it’s not going to change that you’re straight vanilla. Mostly, anyway.”
“So I guess there’s nothing to talk about. We can’t make this work.”
Deep down, he hoped Andre had a counterargument that would blow that statement out of the water. Some solution that would make this doable.
But from the way Andre’s shoulders sagged, he knew it wasn’t coming.
“There’s really no way around it,” Andre said. “Either one of us is going to wind up doing things he’d rather not do, or the other is going to be missing things he wants to do.”
Joel sighed. “Yeah. So I guess . . .” He hesitated. “I guess it doesn’t make sense to keep tempting ourselves like this.”
Andre nodded. With a faint laugh, he said, “Easier said than done, right?”
“So much.”
Uncomfortable silence descended. There was nothing left to say at this point that wouldn’t make things worse, so Joel got up and started collecting his clothes. Andre did the same. Without speaking, they both got dressed. Then they left the bedroom, and for the second time, Joel walked out of Andre’s house with his body still aching from some spectacular sex while his stomach was filled with lead over the awkward good-bye. In fact, he felt even worse this time. Because what had he expected? What had either of them expected?
Well, it was done. He let himself into his car and got the hell out of there, and surprise, surprise, that ball of lead didn’t get any smaller or lighter. It was funny how storming out after a raging argument was easier than walking away after a quiet, civil discussion about why they couldn’t make it work. When two people were pissed off, of course they wanted to put some space between them and cool down. Or just get the fuck away because the other person was an asshole.
Looking at you, Rob.
But when it was peaceful and calm, and everyone had to admit there was no other solution, it was the worst feeling to walk away. This wasn’t what he wanted to do. It was the opposite of what he wanted to do.
He didn’t know what he felt for Andre. More to the point, since they still barely knew each other, what he could feel for him if they gave this thing time to grow.
He made it halfway to the highway before he had to pull over.
He didn’t cry. He didn’t rage. If anything, he was just numb.
Numb and fucking frustrated.
As far as he could tell, they matched in every way imaginable, except that one. He’d compromised in that department before, and it had taken way too long to get out of that rabbit hole. Of course, Rob had taken things to an extreme. It didn’t matter if he was a sadist or a Dom—only that he was an asshole.
Over time, though, as Joel had figured out that Rob needed to go, he’d also realized that by and large, kink wasn’t for him. That his distaste for it had nothing to do with whether or not he was with a competent Dom. Somehow, that was an impossible thing to get through to people. He could withdraw himself from the kink lifestyle and have that move and the decision behind it be completely independent of his need to move on from Rob. For some reason, it was like pulling teeth to convince people that he could have the most amazing Dom on the planet and he still wouldn’t be into submission and pain and everything else.
And that wasn’t going to change.
Not even for Andre.
Enough was enough. Two weeks after the music festival, and with Andre out of the picture, Joel was itching to go meet someone new. He was way over Rob, needed to let Andre go, and could think of no better way to accomplish that than by finding another man to occupy his bed. He wanted to connect with someone online so they could meet up and fuck each other absolutely senseless until there was nothing left in his brain except Rob who? and Andre who?
He didn’t even want a real date. Just enough to meet, make sure they’d both accurately represented themselves on their profiles, see if there was any actual chemistry, and then find the nearest flat surface.
Usually, he wasn’t into the idea of casual sex. One-night stands had been all right in the past, and they’d even been kind of enticing right after he’d left Rob, but for the most part, Joel liked relationships. Even if it was a friends-with-benefits thing, he wanted to at least be friends. The thought of hooking up at a bar or via an app didn’t usually pique his interest.
Tonight, it did. He wanted to find someone, get naked with them, and prove to himself that Andre was not the end-all be-all of good sex. That would be enough to shut off that lingering Andre craving.
I just want sex, not Andre.
Though sex with Andre sure has some appeal.
He shook himself, banishing that thought. Sex with Andre was something he would remember fondly and likely jack off to from time to time, but it was in the past where it belonged. Time to move on. And what better way to move on than to move in a frantic horizontal fashion with another naked man?
So, while he waited for his client to respond to some emails, Joel downloaded a hookup app and filled out a profile. After he’d responded to a few more work-related emails, he started browsing the other profiles. Within a few minutes—being the newest addition to the electronic meat market—he started getting some pings, and he replied to a handful of them.
The app had an advantage he hadn’t thought of before—all the initial small talk and introductions happened via text. That gave him the opportunity to read his words and delete the hell out of them if—when—he realized he was about to say something stupid. Maybe apps like this weren’t such a bad thing.
One profile picture caught his eye, and he did a double take. Was it really the CFO from the last company he’d consulted for? The homophobic jackass who never wasted an opportunity to snark about “the shithole-obsessed gays” or how “the liberals are turning this country into a den of perversion”?
He tapped the profile, and laughed aloud. Yep, that was him, smarmy grin and all. Turned out somebody was a power bottom with a sweet tooth for cock. Surprise, surprise.
“Well what do you know?” Joel said to Cinnamon, who was snoozing at his feet. “Methinks the executive doth protest too much.”
Cinnamon just snored.
Chuckling to himself, Joel continued perusing the app.
Another profile caught his eye, and he tapped it. The guy was easy on the eyes, that was for sure. Cute smile. Redhead. Freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose. He’d listed his body type as “a few extra pounds.” He’d also cautiously described himself as “not in the best shape of my life” and “no six-pack here,” which led Joel to wonder if he’d caught hell for not being completely upfront about not being built like a porn star. Maybe he’d dated a guy like Rob. A shame—he was quite good-looking.
So, Joel worked up the courage and sent him a message.
Now he was nervous. He’d actually initiated contact with someone. What now? Rejection? Getting a response and then having to respond to the response? When had this shit become so terrifying?
He put the phone aside and tried to get back to work. The client didn’t expect the detailed analysis for another week, so it wasn’t horrendously urgent. Still, the sooner he finished, the sooner he got paid. If that meant working through the weekend, so be it. Somebody had to keep Cinnamon stocked with the magic prescription senior dog food from the vet.
