by KC Burn
“You don’t have to treat me.”
“Yeah, I do. You did all the work Saturday, and it was your own party.” Kurt glared at him, and Davy laughed.
“Okay, okay, but no beer. Been a long time since I was hungover, and I don’t need a repeat on a work night. By the way, what did you get me?”
“Open it when you get home and see. It’s nothing really.” He didn’t want to talk about it. It seemed so sentimental and even though he thought it was perfect for Davy, it was maybe a weird thing for a guy to give another guy.
“How was work?”
They settled back into their normal conversational topics when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
“Kurt, how’s it going?”
He craned his head up to see Simon—dressed in a three-piece suit—standing beside him. God, the man was tall. He glanced back at Davy, who’d hunched up into the corner of the booth, silent and looking for all the world like he was trying to be invisible.
“What are you doing here, Simon?”
“Jen and I have theater tickets. I’d heard you talk about this place, so we thought we’d try it.”
A quick glance confirmed Simon and Jen weren’t the only ones taking advantage of Lettie’s good food and fast service before their show. The crowd was dressier than Kurt usually saw, but he rarely came here at this time of day.
“Simon, Jen, this is a friend of mine, Davy. Davy, this is Simon, my partner, and his wife, Jen.”
Simon probably didn’t notice Davy’s slight flinch at the mention of partners, and he clasped Simon’s outstretched hand, which Kurt hadn’t been sure he’d do until he actually did it.
“Hi, Davy. Nice to meet you.” Jen slid into the booth beside Kurt, and Simon sat next to Davy. Made sense, size-wise, since Jen and Davy were both slender, much more so than he and Simon were, but the proximity to Simon was making Davy uncomfortable and Kurt didn’t know why.
“Hope you’re okay if we join you.” Simon rolled his eyes, knowing it was entirely Jen’s decision.
“Oh, shush, you.” Jen batted at Simon. “I haven’t seen Kurt in forever. Besides, we’ve only got time for a snack. Have you guys ordered appetizers yet?”
Davy shook his head, warming up in the face of Jen’s unrelenting effervescence.
“Perfect.” She glanced at Simon who immediately raised a large fist and signaled the waitress.
Kurt knew Simon wasn’t henpecked or pussy-whipped or whatever derogatory names people gave men who were merely considerate of their wives. In fact, he was envious of their accord. He was thirty-one years old. When was he going to find that for himself?
They ordered nachos to share while Jen and Davy talked about their respective jobs, then various plays they’d both seen and what they thought of them. Kurt had only heard of a few of them—either because he’d read the plays in high school or because an advertising campaign penetrated his consciousness. Probably wouldn’t hurt him to see a few more, though. His sisters told him more than once the theater in Toronto was… robust and world class? Something like that. He should probably take advantage of it, and it would be cheaper and easier than getting tickets to a Leafs game.
When the nachos came, all of them were hungry enough to tuck in, creating a lull in the conversation, by which time Davy had relaxed in the unexpected company. Davy smiled at him while sucking salsa off his thumb and Kurt bit his lip. The first thing that popped into his mind was an image of Davy sucking something else entirely, and Kurt scooted his hips further under the table.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Why Davy for God’s sake? He needed to get laid. And not by Davy, goddammit.
He made sure to avoid looking at Davy until Simon and Jen left. At least the burgers they ordered as entrees shouldn’t cause any errant sexual thoughts or fucked-up mind tricks.
“They seem nice,” Davy commented as the waitress deposited their burgers. Davy slid the bottle of mustard toward him.
“I don’t know why you don’t like mustard.” Kurt glopped yellow across his bun.
Davy shuddered. “And I don’t know why you like it at all. It’s unnatural looking and tastes awful.”
“Oh, and ketchup’s so much better? It’s just sticky red sugar.”
“It’s vastly superior to mustard.”
Kurt laughed as Davy’s nose tilted upwards, relieved the blip of sexual energy had disappeared. It had. Really. At the very least, his damned cock was behaving itself.
“So, you like the theater?” Kurt picked up the conversational thread from Simon and Jen’s visit. Tickets would make a good gift for next year’s birthday—he’d have to remember to add it to his calendar.
“I love it. I don’t… I haven’t been in a long time.”
Irrational—or perhaps not so irrational—anger welled up in his gut. Anger was a more comfortable, if unfamiliar, emotion. He hated the way Davy had been almost a prisoner. Not for the whole ten years of his relationship, but from all he’d heard Ben had gotten worse over time, particularly after his fortieth birthday. Counseling might help Davy, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to bring it up on Davy’s birthday. Next time he stopped by, maybe. He didn’t want to be the one to wipe the joy from Davy’s face, despite the potential conversational minefields waiting for him, like the video-game player at Davy’s party.
“Hoo, I’m stuffed.” Davy pushed his plate away, burger half-eaten and fries untouched. Kurt was still eating—he’d gotten used to his friend’s lighter appetite.
“Want to catch a movie? It’s cheapie night.” Kurt waggled his brows, making Davy laugh.
“It’s almost eight. We won’t have a good selection.”
“So? We’ll go and see the next thing showing, whatever it is.” Kurt wasn’t ready to go home. Getting older sucked enough without heading home from a birthday dinner before nine. Nine! Davy deserved a break from being a responsible adult, but he wasn’t sure accompanying Davy home would be a great idea.
“Okay, but I’m betting whatever is playing next is going to be terrible.”
“So? It’s my money. Besides, we can always chuck popcorn at the screen.”
“Chuck popcorn? Is that appropriate behavior for a fine, upstanding police detective?” An amused snort ruined Davy’s censorious speech.
“Eh. As long as you don’t announce it, we should be fine.”
Davy smiled again. “Deal. And I’ve got an I-told-you-so in my pocket, ready to use. But let me pay, at least.”
“No way, birthday boy. Ready?”
Davy nodded, and Kurt dropped a few bills on the table as he slid out of the booth. A tug at his sleeve halted him.
“Thanks, Kurt.” Sincere appreciation shone in Davy’s eyes. Davy was thanking him for more than just dinner, and the last of Kurt’s mild anxiety dissolved. He couldn’t let Davy down.
“Anytime. You know that, right?”
Eyes a little bright, Davy smiled. No tears tonight, thank God. It had to be bad luck to cry on your birthday.
Popcorn and drinks in hand, they slid into their seats two minutes before the movie was to start. Neither of them had heard of it, but it was the next thing playing.
“Are you sure this is the right theater?” Davy glanced around.
“Yes. It’s number eight. How hard is it to figure that out?”
“But there’s no one else here.”
It was odd. Tuesdays weren’t always busy, but Kurt would have expected a horror movie to have a bigger audience than just the two of them, this close to Halloween. Then again, maybe no one else had heard of this movie, either.
The opening credits began to roll, and Davy fixed such an exaggerated look of rapt attention on the screen Kurt had to laugh. The movie was as terrible as Davy had predicted. The gore wasn’t realistic at all, and the police procedure was laughable at best. As soon as Davy began a sneering, sarcastic commentary about each of the characters and their ridiculous reactions and conclusions, Kurt countered with his own scathing denouncement of the law enf
orcement. At times, they were laughing so hard, Kurt was sure they missed some of the wooden, stilted dialog, which didn’t matter at all for their comprehension of the plot.
The last scene of the movie was a typical set-up for a sequel, although Kurt had no idea who’d be insane enough to commission one.
Davy turned to him. “That’s got to be a ten blowjob movie, at least.”
Just hearing Davy say those words sent a lick of heat to his groin. “What?”
“Ten blowjobs. You know, how many blowjobs it took to convince someone to make that movie.”
Kurt laughed so hard he almost choked on the last sip of his drink, and his sides had already been aching partway through the movie. “Ten? Really? I’d say a hundred. Maybe five hundred.”
Davy laughed with him.
The drive to Davy’s house wasn’t long enough to make Kurt’s sides hurt any less, partly because Davy kept dredging up some of the funniest bits. Pulled up in the driveway, the almost overwhelming temptation to kiss Davy stole over him. God. They weren’t on a fucking date. Kurt clamped his hands firmly on the steering wheel, facing forward.
“Thanks again, Kurt. I had a great time.” Davy patted him on the shoulder and got out of the car. Kurt had too. Despite the film itself, it was possibly the best time he’d ever had at the movies.
Back home in bed, he pictured how Davy’s ass moved as the man walked into the house. Shit. This was getting out of hand. He wasn’t gay. He’d never thought about guys before. Davy wasn’t feminine, either, so that didn’t explain his fascination. Sure, he was slender, but he had a five o’clock shadow and big hands and was taller, for God’s sake.
Yet, his pink lips were a torment. Imagining Davy’s lips on his… anything… made his skin feel too tight and his pulse leap even as it freaked him the fuck out. His mind filled with ever more sensual Davy mini-movies. Especially Davy on his knees, blowing him. He was never going to be able to sleep without jerking off, dammit.
He grasped his cock, already hard and aching. Why did imagining Davy’s mouth on him have this effect? Hell, Davy’s dimples were of more interest to his cock than a topless Tiffany, his for the taking.
No. No, he could sleep without this. He could. He unwrapped his fingers, willing his erection to fade. Tried not to think about Davy scooting under the table at Lettie’s to unzip his fly. Tried not to think about Davy leaning over his lap in a darkened movie theater. Tried not to think about getting a highly illegal blowjob while he was driving. Even that montage included Davy’s dark hair—and no one else’s—tickling his belly. His hands clenched in the bedding while his hips shifted. Lifted off the bed in supplication.
“Damn it!” His yell cut through the silence of the room, but his walls were thick concrete—he didn’t have to worry about waking the neighbors.
He rolled to the side and grabbed lube from the bedside table. He didn’t use it all that often, but tonight, he wanted to. Slicking up his hands, he placed one on his dick and the other cupped his balls. He groaned at the sheer pleasure of contact.
Starting slow, the way he liked, Kurt stroked the full length of his cock, giving the tip a tiny twist before bringing his hand back down to the base, then repeated, pretending the slippery wetness was Davy’s mouth, dripping with saliva. All the while, he massaged his balls, imagined fucking into Davy’s mouth.
Before he knew it, Kurt’s mind saw him atop Davy, whose legs were spread, open, waiting. Davy’s cock lay heavy and erect on his belly, plump head pointing at his chin. Frantic now, his hand moved faster on his cock, and his other hand slipped lower, a single digit insinuating itself in Kurt’s ass, where nothing had gone before. The movie in his mind saw his dick disappearing into Davy’s body, and he pushed his finger deeper, imagining the same heat and tightness around his dick. To his shock, the fullness felt so fucking good. His finger stroked in time to the fist around his cock but it was the thought of Davy coming all over himself, Kurt deep inside, that sent him over the edge with a drawn-out moan.
Panting, he lay there, come cooling on his belly, finger still lodged firmly within his body. He closed his eyes. Fuck a duck. He wasn’t gay, was he? Guys fantasized about other guys sometimes, didn’t they? He never had before….
He slid his finger free, and his cock twitched at the additional sensation. He jumped off the bed and showered, washing away the evidence, but to his horror, he found himself leaning against the tiles, finger up his ass again, madly stroking his cock to the pictures of Davy in his head. As he blew all over his hand, he realized he couldn’t even blame the beer this time.
Oh God.
Chapter Ten
“How long before the onslaught?” Kurt settled back into a folding chair by the door, Erin in a matching chair across from him. Erin’s two girls and his other nieces and nephews had gone off trick-or-treating with Erin’s husband and the rest of his married siblings. The bunch of them had nearly overloaded Kurt’s cuteness receptors, the little mites all decked out in their costumes, with bulky parkas incorporated last minute. Same as when he was a kid. Damned cold snap always happened a couple of days before Halloween, ruining the whole concept of a costume planned since summer.
“I’d guess we’ve got ten, maybe fifteen minutes until the first kid.” Erin unwrapped a mini chocolate bar from the bowl at her feet and popped it in her mouth.
“Hey, sis, restrain yourself. Don’t eat ’em all before the sprogs get here.”
Erin whipped one of the bars at his head, and he ducked, laughing.
“I was going to say this is nice, hanging out with my baby brother. But I think I’ve changed my mind. How come you’re not at a party? Since you’re not working, you could have gone with Ian and Dylan.”
Kurt shrugged. He was sure the party his single brothers were attending would be every bit as crazy as the club Davy’s friends were at. He’d be guaranteed to get laid, or so Ian had assured him. But…. “I still could get called in. Which is why I’m here doing this lame-osity with you.” He stuck his tongue out, and Erin threw another mini at him. This one he caught and ate.
They were interrupted by the doorbell, and Erin went to exclaim over the kiddies.
He’d wondered what it would have been like to take Rick up on his invitation… if Davy were going too. It had been ages since he’d gone dancing, and the thought of watching Davy dance was a dark, seductive temptation. He’d busted a few gay clubs in his early days on the force, but even on the job he’d noticed the atmosphere had been drenched with sex. Was Davy a good dancer?
The sting of a candy bar winging him in the head made him yelp. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Language, squirt.” Erin glared at him.
“What the…. What was that for?” Kurt rubbed his forehead.
“I don’t know where you were, but you sure weren’t here. What’s her name?”
“Who?”
“You gotta be thinking of a girl. You had a silly little smile, and you were completely lost in thought. When do we meet her?”
No fucking way.
“Never mind. It’s nothing.”
“Oh, right. You didn’t even hear me when I called your name. Twice. She must really be something.”
“Leave it, Erin.” He used his sternest, no-nonsense cop voice, combined with a glare, but a woman who changed his diapers didn’t respond as the general public would. He was still the little kid who couldn’t take care of himself. The squirt.
She rolled her eyes and brushed past him. “I’m going to grab us a few healthy snacks. You get the next group.”
The doorbell rang, drowning out her last word, and Kurt leapt up, hoping she hadn’t noticed the heat in his face. God. If Erin did suspect he had a girlfriend, his mom would be on his case. And he couldn’t tell them he was getting all weird over a guy. Especially since this was a passing phase he was going to get over. This was an attachment based on the unusual way he’d met Davy. Once Davy had recovered more, this would all go away. And hanging out with gay men so
cially, on a regular basis, was new to him, so he could be excused a few errant thoughts.
Erin returned with a tray bearing veggie sticks and dip, which she set on the small hall table.
“Thanks, Erin.” He’d just picked up a carrot stick when the doorbell rang again, and his phone vibrated in his pocket.
“Gotta take this.”
Erin nodded and headed for the door as he went further into the house to escape the hubbub of kids hyped up on sugar.
“Hi, Davy. What’s up?”
“It’s Sandra. I’m at Sandra’s.”
The raw, thready sound of panic was audible even over the squeals of small children.
