The Librarian's Rake

by Z. Allora

  Damn, shy had never been so frigging hot. Everything in Phillip wanted to push Tristan against the wall and bruise his lips, mark him as taken, but he didn’t.

  He crawled back onto the bench.

  Tristan stood there in his clinging tank top and trousers, toying with the button.

  With anyone else, Phillip would have thought they were attempting to be tantalizing, but Tris wasn’t. He just so fucking was!

  When Tristan toed off his shoes and finally unzipped his pants, Phillip thought he might pass out from anticipation. He released the breath he’d been holding.

  Instead of looking away, Tristan caught Phillip’s gaze, smiled with a rebellious gleam, pushed down his pants, and stepped out of them.

  Phillip handed him the jeans and didn’t look lower than Tristan’s waist, ’cause… he didn’t. He glued his stare to Tristan’s face as the man jumped, twisted, and wiggled the lower half of his body into the jeans.

  Tristan bit his lower lip, inhaled to zip the jeans, and frowned into the mirror. “These are too tight.”

  The Lord had no mercy on Phillip’s soul, but if he did, he’d have given him some more room in his jeans, ’cause holy fuck, Tristan was packing. Phillip would play the professional for as long as he could.

  Standing, he took a critical look. After shoving a finger into the waistband, he couldn’t resist tracing it around to the front. He tilted his head to dramatically assess Tristan’s bulge. “I think I might have figured out why these feel tight.”

  Tristan snorted and blushed. “Yeah… well….”

  “But it’s not like we can take you clubbing in meggings.”

  “Meggings?”

  “You know… or I guess you don’t know. Meggings are like yoga pants.” Leering down at Tristan’s long legs, he admired how the muscles were outlined nicely. Burying the need to climb him like a tree, Phillip said, “Let me get you another brand to try.”

  Phillip slipped out of the dressing room and paused long enough to adjust himself.

  He had to be earning sainthood with this exercise in restraint. He racked his brain, trying to think of another situation that didn’t resolve itself with sex immediately, but came up empty.

  After grabbing a couple of pairs known for their snug fit but in a more forgiving denim, he marched back to the dressing room. Damn! He opened the door on an erotic Fruit of the Loom ad.

  Taking a deep breath, he handed Tris the first pair and sat down with the rest piled on his lap. Studying the stain on the carpet only made him want to make another one. His mouth needed to do something, so he started rambling. “The stretchability of these jeans is wood friendly… which will come in handy at the clubs and—what?”

  Tristan shook his head and zipped the jeans.

  “Those look great on you.” Phillip admired how the cut clung in all the right places.

  Tugging at the front, Tris admitted, “They are more comfortable.”

  Phillip had him try on three more kinds and settled on two that Tristan liked. Tristan kept on the last pair of ass-hugging black denim that Phillip was positive would be perfect to rub off on. Phillip touched the hem of Tristan’s plain, simple, but sexy-as-fuck tank. The urge to pull the damned thing off him, push him against the wall, and…. “Take this off so you can try on some T-shirts.”

  If Tristan noticed the way Phillip’s voice sounded all husky and broken, he didn’t say.

  Tristan stripped off his tank and turned to exchange it for the one Phillip handed him. “I really appreciate you doing this with me.”

  Phillip wouldn’t smell Tristan’s body-warmed undershirt, but fuck he wanted to, badly. He cleared his throat. “No problem. Glad to be of assistance.”

  God, Phillip wanted to help in a much more hands-on way. What the fuck stopped him? Fear of screwing this up whispered through his mind. But what exactly was this?

  Tristan jerked on the blue T-shirt. The size medium clung to him in all the right places. He turned away from Phillip and shucked off his pants, putting his butt on view. In the mirror, Phillip caught a glimpse of his cock, which tented his tighty-whities.

  “We need to get you some colorful manpanties and—”

  “Manpanties?” Tristan choked out.

  “Underwear that doesn’t look like your mother bought it.” Phillip waved a hand at Tristan’s undies. “Though, on second thought, you do rock the pristine white….”

  “Um… thanks.” Tristan pulled on some more clothing from the try-on pile.

  Phillip couldn’t decide which was sexier—Tristan wiggling in or out of the items. It didn’t matter since they were just friends.

  PHILLIP’S SYSTEM was put in a tailspin when the next stop wasn’t the bathroom, where they could get each other off, but the eyeglass shop.

  Tristan shrugged and pulled out a prescription. “Since my eyes didn’t change from the last exam, I haven’t replaced them.”

  The salesperson had a bright smile and wore a pair of glasses where each lens was held by a different shape, one rectangle the other a circle. It looked kind of cute on her, but not for Tristan.

  Phillip selected a few modern pairs, but the one with the hint of gray in the rims brought out the molten metal of Tristan’s eyes. “Those.”

  Tristan swiped them off his face and studied them.

  “My God… look at that… that’s some glasses fu. Black-belt level.”

  “What?”

  “The way you whipped off your glasses, it was like you were getting ready to discipline someone or something. Do they teach that in librarian school?”

  Tristan chuckled.

  “Okay, Clark Kent, I think you should also get some contacts as well.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Though the image of shooting off on Tristan’s face while he wore glasses…. “Yes, contacts. Disposables. You should talk to the doctor.”

  Chapter 6

  THE THROBBING music hit Tristan the moment he stepped inside the club. Mostly shirtless men, and a few women, filled the dance floor, writhing against each other like they were auditioning for an orgy scene in a remake of Caligula.

  The week had dragged by, broken only by small injections of Phillip-spurred coffee runs and somewhat-suggestive but friendly text messages between them. Finally it was Saturday night. Tristan looked forward to spending time with Phillip more than being in a dance club, but his grandfather would remind him not to look too deeply and simply enjoy.

  A warm hand on Tristan’s back pushed him forward as Phillip guided him to one of the two long bars that ran along half the club on either side. They snagged two empty stools.

  Phillip waved a twenty at the bartender. The man behind the bar ignored every waiting customer and tripped to do Phillip’s bidding—two beers and lime—leering all the while.

  Tristan ran a finger along his nose to push back his nonexistent glasses. Phillip had convinced him to wear his new disposable contacts instead of his specs. He blinked, not liking the absence of a perfectly good barrier between him and, well, the world.

  Phillip spun on the barstool and leaned back with his elbows on the bar. Was he surveying prey or striking a pose?

  Tristan wasn’t sure, so he took a sip of beer. His gaze landed on Phillip’s T-shirt. “Save A Lollipop, Suck A Cock” scrolled across his chest in silver glittery letters. He covered his mouth to avoid a spit take and focused on swallowing, which made him think of the T-shirt’s suggestion and… well, Phillip.

  With a smirk, Phillip pointed to his shirt. “You like my little ice breaker?”

  Two men sauntered by holding hands, and the one with long hair grinned in a lascivious manner. “If you come with us, we can help you save two lollipops.”

  Phillip made a show of assessing the guys.

  Cold terror raced through Tristan. Phillip wouldn’t leave him so soon, would he? Phillip wouldn’t—

  “Maybe later.” Phillip dismissed the men by twirling back to face the bar. He clicked his beer bottle against Trista
n’s and leaned in. “And it’s just that easy.”

  “For you.” No doubt Phillip could get any man in here.

  Phillip tapped the bottom of Tristan’s beer. “Finish your beer so we can dance.”

  The thrashing bodies must have multiplied tenfold in the time he and Phillip got their drinks. “Dance?”

  “You did promise.” Phillip glanced in the mirror behind the bar and swiped under his eyes. He need not worry; his subtle eye makeup was flawless. The liner and mascara drew attention to his soulful eyes and made them look sultry.

  Tristan had sworn to Phillip he’d dance, and he would. A little liquid courage might be in order; he put the bottle to his lips and drank.

  Phillip cleared his throat and shifted on the stool. “Well, you got some notice.”

  He followed Phillip’s head gesture to three men across the bar who eyed him. One smiled, another licked his lips, and the third raised his glass in a silent toast.

  Eyes down! Eyes down!

  Phillip chuckled, grabbed Tristan’s almost empty drink, and set the bottle next to his empty on the bar. “Let’s go.”

  Tristan allowed himself to be tugged to the relative safety of the gyrating mass of humanity. He wasn’t a germophobe, per se, though having sweaty strangers rub against him wouldn’t be his preference. He swayed to the pounding beat while avoiding contact, or at least he tried.

  He kept his gaze on Phillip and attempted not to pant. Liquid heat… sex… want… need, were all conveyed in each and every movement Phillip made. He gave Tristan an enticing smile and licked his glossed lips, making them glisten even more.

  Zeus! Phillip moved, spun, and twisted with such confidence. He was in his element and hotter than Hades. No way could Tristan share the inferno and not be incinerated.

  Hooking two fingers into Tristan’s belt loops, Phillip dragged him in.

  Hell, burning himself to ash never seemed more appealing.

  Phillip pressed in tight. “Come on, you can dance with me until you find someone you like better.”

  Biting back his response of that never happening, Tristan enjoyed Phillip’s body close to his. He let Phillip guide him backward until the mirrored wall halted him.

  Tristan moved with the music that thudded through his body and received a “See, Tris, you can dance” from Phillip. Yeah, he could, and he was. Alert the book club! Tristan Cooper dancing at a club with the sexiest guy he’d ever known, and loving it.

  Straddling Tristan’s leg, Phillip started to grind to the rhythm enveloping them. His fingers, still locked around Tristan’s belt loops, didn’t allow for any retreat. Phillip actually kept tugging him forward with the beat, encouraging Tristan to let his cock rub against Phillip’s ever-moving hip.

  Damn! Tristan had never been so hard in public before. It bordered on indecency. There must’ve been laws against such things, but the liberation of being with Phillip made the risk worth it.

  “I’m hot.” Phillip pulled his T-shirt over his head and stuffed it in his back pocket.

  Yes. Yes, he was….

  Tristan tried not to stare, but he drank in the vision, absorbing every perfect inch of Phillip’s hairless chest. Many of the guys on the dance floor were shirtless and had great bodies, but none were Phillip.

  His raw sexuality and enticing personality reminded Tristan of a mythical sex demon. But unlike an incubus, instead of draining Tristan’s life force, he strengthened it while heightening all sensation. Tristan’s mind and body switched to high alert.

  Leaning in, Phillip shouted near Tristan’s ear, “You hot too?”

  Tristan nodded.

  Phillip traced his fingers around the hem of Tristan’s T-shirt and slowly dragged the cotton over his head. The T-shirt was shoved into his pocket and hung down like a tail. He’d never been seminaked in a public place before except at a pool. It seemed scandalous, dirty, though he reveled in the freedom.

  “Do you see anyone you want to dance with?” Phillip craned his neck around and then studied the mirror behind Tristan.

  “I’m dancing with who I want.” Truth and clarity tumbled out. Tristan hoped his words were lost to the music.

  Phillip squinted at him, then dropped his gaze down to stare at Tristan’s chest. He reattached his fingers to Tristan’s belt loops. Phillip’s movements became less coy and more… real somehow.

  One song transitioned into another. The persistent rubbing had Tristan almost boiling over with arousal, but by all things holy, he’d suffer anything to be with Phillip. Right here, right now.

  Three songs and an incredible amount of friction later, a heavy single drumbeat ricocheted through Phillip, translating into a throbbing need in Tristan. Grinning, Phillip sang with the artist about being his next mistake and how love was a game.

  Yes, Tristan wanted to play, even knowing he couldn’t hope to win. But he wouldn’t throw in the towel even if he were only allowed a little while with Phillip.

  If he hadn’t already fallen into crazy love with the tease in front of him, this would have shoved him head over heels right then as the lights chased shadows across Phillip’s sweet face while his body did sexy things to Tristan.

  Phillip asked again, “You sure you don’t wanna dance with anyone else?”

  “Positive.”

  Shrugging, Phillip sang, “I’ll be your regret….”

  Tristan couldn’t stop the words. “I promise I won’t regret a thing….”

  Phillip scrunched his face and then chased away the frown with a headshake. “You will, but that’s okay. I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

  Pressing him harder against the back wall, Phillip introduced Tristan to the joys of full-on, direct, no-kidding-around, dry humping. The obstacle of their jeans somehow made the act highly erotic.

  Then Phillip stretched and licked Tristan’s neck.

  Stars burst with the dancing lights. He didn’t even try not to moan. It felt incredible. Tristan got the nerve to cup Phillip’s butt and dragged him closer, inviting more attention to his neck.

  Another lick, a wiggle of his hips, another flick of his tongue, and finally, Phillip pressed his lips against Tristan’s pulse point.

  For the first time in his life, Tristan craved a hickey. He’d never had fumbling high school make-out sessions, but now he wanted to make up for the lack of experience.

  He skimmed one hand along Phillip’s back until he sank his fingers into silken hair, and applied a little pressure to the back of Phillip’s head to beg for a mark.

  Phillip may have chuckled. Tristan couldn’t be sure, because the gentle nip of teeth made him groan with desperation.

  He kneaded Phillip’s ass, pulling him tighter, which provided more friction on a place Tristan craved the sensation. This whole situation was insane and didn’t happen to boring librarians. He didn’t care, and he’d take Phillip any way he could have him.

  Phillip seemed to want more too, because he rutted against Tristan faster and panted. “God, this is so hot.”

  “Please, Phillip.” He begged for everything he’d ever wanted with two words.

  Phillip bit again, this time harder. The teeth on Tristan’s neck made him shiver. Then Phillip sucked, shoving Tristan closer to the proverbial edge of sanity—loss of control, orgasm, and all of the above.

  Trembling, Tristan tugged Phillip’s head back and stared into his eyes. Could this gorgeous man possibly want even a tenth of what Tristan did?

  He didn’t have a chance to search for an answer, because between quick breaths, Phillip warned, “If you kiss me, Tris, I’m going to come.”

  “So am I.” Ignoring the remaining bits of his self-protection, he captured Phillip’s mouth and handed over his very soul.

  Instinct took over. Tristan glided his lips over Phillip’s. On a groan Phillip’s mouth parted in surrender, allowing Tristan complete access. Without hesitation he swept his tongue deep inside. Bolts of white hot lust and deep affection magnified with every touch.

  He ground hi
s hips with purpose, hoping to drive Phillip over the edge.

  The toe-curling kiss went on and on. Phillip gasped, squeezed tighter, and started to quiver. His hips thrust in jerky and uncoordinated movements.

  Reality hit Tristan. Phillip was coming in his arms. Tristan tightened his hands on Phillip’s butt and guided his movements to maintain the rhythm they had set.

  Love burst through him, and Tristan deepened the kiss. His heart soared. He’d made Phillip come, and that thought tripped him headfirst into his own scorching pleasure. The ecstasy zinged back and forth between them and seemed to go on and on.

  Tristan latched on to Phillip, wishing this moment would never end. They no longer kissed, just clung to each other’s lips and panted for breath.

  The real world broke the cocoon for two when several bodies knocked into them.

  What had he just done? And at a club…. Tristan couldn’t help but grin. Yeah, he’d just made Phillip come on a dance floor.

  Phillip stepped back a little unsteadily and touched his fingers to his mouth. “That was some kiss.”

  Tristan nodded. A first kiss that ended in a public orgasm. That didn’t happen to quiet librarians. But it probably happened to his rakish man all the time.

  Phillip stared at him with pupils so dilated the black almost took all the blue from his eyes. “You… um, wanna get out of here?”

  Tristan took Phillip’s hand and led him out to his car.

  When the wind blew, Phillip whined, “Ew. My cum is drying, and it’s disgusting.”

  Biting back his laugh, Tristan pulled on his shirt and told him, “You can shower and change at my house.”

  AFTER A quick shower, Tristan felt drawn to take out his contacts and put his glasses back on. Maybe then his life would seem real again.

  He reviewed the instructions the doctor had given of how to remove his contacts. Once, twice… geez, he’d done it at the optometrist’s office.

  The guest bathroom water had shut off a while ago.

  He wrapped a towel around himself and found Phillip in the hallway sporting a pair of sweats that were rolled up a mile and one of Tristan’s T-shirts. “I hope you don’t mind I borrowed these.”