Level Hands: Bend or Break, Book 4

by Amy Jo Cousins

  Rafi opened his mouth, and then closed it against without saying a word. A moment later, Denny took pity on him.

  “When they crash?” he asked, with a glance upstairs.

  Rafi’s face burned. He nodded, breathing faster at the very idea.

  Bringing their friends with them had been a terrible plan.

  In the end, Denny announced he was tired of waiting for the high ones to pass out, so he headed upstairs to crash just before one o’clock in the morning, warning them not to do anything more stupid than usual. On his way out of the room, he’d stopped and stared at Rafi, who was curled up on the couch under an afghan, wishing he had the nerve to go upstairs with Denny. But they’d gotten enough shit from their teammates already. Vinnie hadn’t hesitated to announce to Austin and Bob, apparently, that “those two are eye-fucking each other in the kitchen,” prompting even more teasing. No need to give anyone more ammunition.

  After a long moment staring at him, Denny had shaken his head. “Night, you guys. Don’t be assholes.” He lifted his chin at the trio on the long couch to make sure it was clear who he was talking about. Dude was obviously not over the portion of the evening where he’d had to sit on Austin to keep him from instigating a nude streak around the neighborhood.

  By the time the stoner set had turned off the DVD player and fumbled their way upstairs to bed, Rafi had been barely alert enough to tell them to turn off the lights as they left the room.

  But when the stairs creaked some time later, he woke up in an instant. Soft footsteps paused at the door to the living room.

  “Sorry.” He could barely make out Denny’s go back to sleep wave in the dark. “Vinnie’s puking upstairs, so I came down here to piss. Figured I’d check on the fire in case it was dying down.”

  Rafi had made Vinnie put another log on the fire earlier, not trusting himself to do something that wouldn’t end with a flaming piece of wood rolling out of the fireplace while he slept.

  The dim glow from the fire caught on the edges of Denny’s arm, his bare chest. Rafi stared.

  Stop staring at him like a creepy serial killer. Jesuschristo.

  “Looks fine,” Denny stuttered out before whirling around in the doorway and striding down the hallway, banging against the wall and muttering, “Ow.”

  Rafi stayed sitting up, listening to Denny fumble into the downstairs bathroom and close the door. His heart thumped rapidly. He opened his mouth to breathe, because he couldn’t get enough air. The smell of wood smoke hung in the air as the logs shifted and settled.

  He waited for a long time to hear Denny leave the bathroom. He heard nothing.

  Denny was mostly naked, right down the hall. And everyone else was asleep. Or puking.

  Rafi stood up and headed for the hall.

  The bathroom door creaked open as he reached for its handle. A flush of second-guessing rushed through him. Maybe this was a bad idea. Suddenly, all he wanted was to get his ass back to the couch, where he could sleep away his embarrassment. In his head, he’d imagined Denny waiting for him, hoping Rafi would follow him through the dark to the tiny room.

  But the gasp Denny let out as he nearly body-slammed Rafi exiting the bathroom said he wasn’t expecting Rafi to be there at all. He flung up a hand, catching himself against Rafi’s chest. His fingers spread over Rafi’s heartbeat, which was fucking racing at the feel of Denny’s hand on him. They stood frozen together for what felt like ages.

  Denny snatched his hand away, curling it into a fist against his own chest. Then, as if recognizing who it was, he exhaled, dropping his hand again. Maybe he thought Rafi had been out here in the hall the entire time like a creepy stalker, listening to him piss.

  Fifteen minutes was an awful long time to take a leak.

  Maybe he’d been jerking off. Rafi licked his lips, his stomach muscles tightening. Don’t think about Denny jerking off.

  Great. Might as well tell himself not to picture a pink elephant.

  “Hey,” he breathed out on an exhale. Denny’s eyes were midnight on a lake, bottomless, quiet. Rafi could have sworn that neither of them blinked for a minute while they stood staring at each other. Close enough to feel Denny’s warm breath on his face. The brush of it made him shiver, the hairs on his arms lifting.

  If he took a deep breath, their chests might touch.

  On a shallow inhale, Denny stepped to the side to let Rafi pass him and enter the bathroom. Having none of that, Rafi stepped to the side too, winding up right in front of Denny.

  “Sorry,” Denny murmured and moved back, looking down at his feet. Rafi wondered if his cheeks were pink.

  Rafi crowded forward, blocking his way out of the bathroom.

  Take the hint, dude.

  Denny shook his head. Rafi told the zing of awareness rippling up his spine to settle down. He inhaled the smell of the other man, sleep-rumpled and warm.

  Instead of continuing their awkward dance in the doorway, Denny took a step back into the bathroom, probably waiting for Rafi to come in so he could get past him.

  Rafi stepped into the bathroom.

  And closed the door.

  The soft noises of an old house settling in the night were the only sounds Rafi could hear, and then the drumming of his own pulse drowned that out as the two of them stood in the dark. Silent. Staring.

  Without a word, Rafi moved forward until their toes bumped against each other. As if in reflex, Denny put a hand out and grabbed Rafi’s hip, his thumb resting on warm, bare skin above the elastic waistband of Rafi’s sleep pants, where his T-shirt was rucked up.

  His hyperawareness of Denny’s body was overwhelming. He damn near licked the air with his tongue in an effort to figure out if he could taste Denny’s scent. He was breathing harder now, his dick lifting in his sleep pants, because surely, surely this couldn’t be misunderstood.

  I’m pressed up against you in the bathroom in the middle of the night. This is not a mixed message.

  He waited, pretty sure he was welcome here, but wanting the go-ahead, given it was 2:00 a.m. in a bathroom. It felt like the sort of moment when he ought to drop to his knees and start sucking Denny off like a porn star, or smash their faces together in some kind of aggressive, tongue-diving make-out session. Instead, he let the quiet pull him under. Let the darkness and the secret of their being alone together in a tiny room under the stairs while the rest of the house slept lead him elsewhere.

  With a soft exhale, Denny turned his cheek, laying the side of his face against Rafi’s shoulder. And Rafi realized that for now, for this moment, he didn’t need to be nervous. He didn’t need to worry about the why or the what of their coming together or how they would go forward from here. He could simply touch his chin to the top of Denny’s head and enjoy the quiet press of one warm body against another in the night.

  The barely there brush of his hand against the short hair on the back of Denny’s head. The skim of his fingers dragging down smooth skin until he rested them, faint points of contact, at Denny’s waist.

  Like an engine revving, the hum in his belly spread with honeyed warmth through his veins. Without hesitating, he slid his arm around Denny’s waist, easing them together until the thick length of his dick rubbed against Denny’s hip, the slight mismatch in their heights noticeable now that he wanted to press himself against the shorter man.

  Simple enough though to lower his head and open his mouth against the delicate skin of Denny’s throat. The touch of Rafi’s tongue drew out a gasp and the hardening of Denny’s dick, easy to feel through the thin fabric of their sleep pants.

  Smoky heat. The lingering taste of soap. And something fresh and clean that was maybe just Denny himself. Rafi closed his mouth against warm skin and sucked lightly, wondering if he’d even be able to see a mark if the lights were on.

  He never wanted the lights to go on.

  Rafi rubbed circles on D
enny’s back, pressing harder as the pulse under his mouth sped up, vibrating against his lips. Their breathing tore ragged strips across the silence of the bathroom, tension stretching the moment until it felt like, if someone spoke out loud, the air itself would snap and break.

  Denny lifted his hands, pulling at Rafi’s T-shirt. But before he could get it more than an inch above his waist, Rafi grabbed him by the hips and turned him around, pulling him in front of the sink.

  The fading light from the moon striped the room through the window shutter. In the mirror, he could make out the dark line of his arm angled across Denny’s chest like a seatbelt. Denny leaned his head back against Rafi’s shoulder, and Rafi felt the tension seep out of him. It’s okay. I’ve got you. He watched Denny close his eyes.

  Only to feel him gasp out loud and jerk forward as Rafi’s hand landed directly on his dick, finding the hard length unerringly in the dark and grabbing hold.

  Jesus. My hand is on his dick. I’m touching Denny’s dick.

  He’d fantasized about this for so long, and wondered if Denny had too. Rafi knew he must have. Before Denny had had any idea how the hard hands of a man could make him feel, could make the breath catch in his throat. Before the first time Rafi had kissed him, even. And remembering that kiss for the thousandth, the millionth time, the way he had pushed Denny against the railing on the lakefront, holding Denny’s head in his hands as he attacked Denny’s mouth, hot breaths mixing like water between them—remembering that kiss, brought Rafi to the painful edge of desire in moments.

  He pulled roughly along the length of Denny’s dick, then slid his hand lower over the fabric. Denny’s mouth fell open, his breath panting in Rafi’s ear. He cupped his hand around Denny’s balls, feeling them tighten.

  When Rafi let go, Denny let out a breath bordering on a moan. He slid his hand under the waist of Denny’s sleep pants, thumb catching on the elastic and dragging them down to midthigh. Denny’s ass was bare against Rafi’s cotton pants, his dick bouncing up to smack wetly against his own stomach. Denny reached back with one arm, wrapping it around Rafi’s neck, opening himself to wherever Rafi chose to let his hands roam next. For the first time, Rafi wished the light were on. Wished he could see all of Denny, bared to him.

  With a growl, Rafi touched him. Dragging his fingertips from one of Denny’s hips to the other. Rising high in the middle of his stomach. Edging close to Denny’s dick but never touching it. Not until Denny groaned in protest, pushing his hips forward and chasing after Rafi’s hands with his dick.

  “Please. Please. Please…” The quietest whispered plea.

  Laughter rumbled in Rafi’s chest as he flattened his hand and ran his palm down Denny’s right thigh, then dragged it back up, ruffling the hairs on his leg the wrong way until Denny shivered.

  Denny’s heart under Rafi’s arm was going so hard. He spread his fingers over the spot, pressing his fingers against the ladder of ribs under Denny’s skin.

  “I think I’m having a heart attack,” Denny muttered, grabbing at Rafi’s hand with his own. “If I die in this bathroom before you make me come, I’ll be pissed.”

  Not that Denny sounded pissed, what with the whimpering noises that were escaping from him as he bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut again. Watching him, trying to make out the path of his own dark hand against the skin that paled to near whiteness at Denny’s groin, was making Rafi crazy. He touched Denny’s stomach, his legs, sliding his hand to cup Denny’s balls again. When Rafi scraped a fingernail lightly against the wrinkled skin of one testicle, Denny almost jerked himself right out of Rafi’s grasp.

  Rafi waited to hear the words he knew must be spinning in Denny’s head, because the same ones were like a tornado in Rafi’s own mind.

  Wait. Wait. Don’t stop. Ever.

  But neither of them spoke a word out loud. He wanted to tease Denny. Tease him until Denny would swear his dick was going to turn to stone and fall off from it. But intention drove every move of Rafi’s hand, no hesitation now. Rafi’s own dick was trapped at a weird angle, pushing down the leg of his sleep pants as he pressed against Denny’s ass, so hard he wondered if he’d even need a touch to come after Denny finished.

  He wrapped his fingers around Denny’s dick, pulling it away from his stomach. He was beyond hard, the soft skin of his dick dry except at the tip, which was wet, so wet. Heat burned under Rafi’s skin, on it, his entire body on fire. He tightened his fingers, jerking hard enough to pull the grunts from deep in Denny’s belly. Denny squeezed the back of Rafi’s neck with his right hand, blunt nails digging into his skin, and hung on tight to Rafi’s arm across his chest with his left.

  Rafi meant for it to last, wanted to draw it out as long as he possibly could. But hardly any time at all passed before Denny’s orgasm broke past his lips, his shout loud enough to wake anyone who hadn’t totally passed out. The spatter of his come hitting the sink was audible too, and Rafi groaned behind him, rocking with the motion of Denny’s thrusting into his hand. His balls pulsed, and pleasure shot down his spine and out his dick as he squeezed Denny tight with an arm around his chest.

  The sound of panting breaths filled the tiny room as Rafi tried to pull himself together. After a minute, Denny reached back with a fumbling hand.

  “Already done,” Rafi muttered against Denny’s neck, pushing his hips forward until wet fabric pressed against Denny’s ass. He looked up to find Denny staring at him in the shadowed mirror. “Fuck, you’re hot. Those noises.”

  Denny’s smile was a ghost in the dark. “Jerking me off made you come in your pants?”

  Rafi ducked his head again and nodded on Denny’s shoulder, embarrassed.

  “That’s awesome.” Denny turned in his grasp and lifted his face, pulling Rafi’s mouth down to his with a sigh, kissing him slow and deep until Rafi didn’t even care that his pants were stuck to him with cooling come. The smell of sex, of their sex, filled the tiny room.

  He pulled Denny’s pants up while they kissed, then stood back as Denny turned on the water and rinsed out the sink, which was a nice thing to remember to do.

  They left the bathroom and walked back toward the stairs and the entrance to the living room, where they both stopped without saying a word. Rafi turned to check on the fire, which was burning lower than ever, the red coals a banked glow across the way. He turned back to say good night before he said something really stupid, and Denny was on him. He pushed Rafi up against the wall next to the door to the family room and kissed him until they both started getting too interested again.

  “Come upstairs,” Denny whispered against his mouth. Rafi didn’t say anything. Denny kissed him again. “You can tell them it got too cold to sleep down here.”

  Rafi hesitated, but the idea of returning alone to the couch in front of a dying fire had no power in the face of the chance to curl up in a bed with Denny. Maybe some talking would need to come into the picture, to clarify what they were going to do in the morning—go with the “too cold” story, or let everyone know the truth?—but that could wait until the morning.

  Everything that wasn’t sliding under a heavy quilt with Denny and scooting up behind him, knees tucked under his knees, chest against his back, could wait until morning.

  Denny took his hand and led him up the stairs.

  Chapter Ten

  Rafi figured he slept through half of the text messages that blew up his phone at dawn the next morning before the buzzing finally penetrated his dreams. He thumbed his passcode, surprised to see texts from Coach and his team captain.

  The adrenaline rush at reading their messages had him surging out of bed like he was on springs. When his phone rang in his hand, he answered it before the second note of the ringtone, flinching at the name on the screen. By the time he hung up, he wished he could get in Denny’s car and head back to campus right then and there. But he was too far away, way too far away, for that to be remotely usef
ul. All he could do was yell at the guy who’d gotten him into this trouble.

  “Dude! What the fuck?” He yanked the covers off Denny in one fell swoop, leaving him clutching vainly at the trailing edge of the quilt and shoving his head deeper under the pillow.

  “Go ’way.”

  When that didn’t work, he smacked Denny on the ass, which definitely woke him up. Woke Rafi up too, with a faint burning on his hand that appealed in a surprisingly interesting way.

  “Ow!”

  Awake now, Denny sat up and whipped his pillow at Rafi, who stood at the edge of the bed, glowering at him. He couldn’t help wondering if his hand was outlined in pink on Denny’s butt. That was distracting. Then he remembered the texts, and smacked Denny’s ass again.

  “What is your problem?” Denny scowled at him, rubbing his ass.

  “I thought you told me you cleared this with Coach Lawson!” Rafi shouted, hands on his hips, eyebrows low.

  Denny flopped back down on the mattress. “Jesus, what time is it?”

  “What time does practice start?”

  “Six? Why the hell are you up?”

  “Because my phone just blew up with texts from Ted, and then Coach called me, ripping me a new one for not being at practice.”

  “Why? You told her you weren’t gonna be there, right?” Denny scrunched up his face. He fumbled for his own phone on the bedside table, flipping it over to check it. “Thank God. Last thing I need is Coach on a tear when I’m hoping to get in the varsity eight in the spring.”

  Rafi held on to his temper with a thin thread. “Why the hell would I tell her, Denny? You told me you were going to let her know we were taking a road trip this weekend.”

  “Will you stop yelling, please? People are still sleeping here.”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck who’s sleeping. I’m pissed as hell at you right now.” And he was standing there wearing only a T-shirt, feeling more and more ridiculous. He’d stripped his pants off before getting into bed hours ago, leaving them on the floor in a pile before crawling into bed with Denny.