by Noah Steele
“You’re talking a lot for a man who should have my dick in his mouth,” he said as he unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them down.
His cock swung out and slapped my cheek as Derrek took a hand and pushed my head toward him. He tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled my head back again.
“Now fucking suck it,” he growled, letting go.
I gripped his thighs with either hand and snaked my tongue out to play with the head of his dick, licking it from the head to the base, lapping at his balls. I took a hand and gave his cock a few slow, heavy pumps before wrapping my lips around it, pushing my head slowly back and forth as I ran my tongue along the length of him.
Derrek grabbed his cock with one hand and slapped it against my tongue, tangling his fingers in my hair again as he held my head and thrust himself into my mouth with hot, heavy force. I could feel the head of his cock tease the back of my throat again and again until I grasped his ass firmly and pushed myself forward, taking all of him at once.
Derrek loosed a deep moan as I pulled him toward me, his knees nearly buckling as his cock began to twitch.
“Fuck—Aiden, oh fuck,” he breathed as his cock throbbed in my mouth, the back of my throat slick with a sticky river of cum. I could feel him buckling in front of me, and I opened my eyes to find his head thrown back and his knees bent as he tried to stay on his feet. I pulled him toward me again, drinking every drop of him before I let him go, and he stumbled backwards, leaning on a stack of boxes to pull his pants back on.
I rose to my feet and walked over to Derrek, who was reclining against a stack of boxes with a massive grin plastered across his face. He reached a hand out to brush his thumb across my lips and I caught him as he moved, darting my tongue out to catch a stray shot of cum.
“It’s dumb that you have no idea how hot that is,” Derrek said, and I could feel my cheeks grow hot under the force of his dark brown eyes.
“Shut up,” I said playfully, reaching for the pack of gum in my bag.
Derrek barked a throaty laugh.
“Are you gonna make me shut up?” he asked, nodding his head toward me.
I looked down, the swell of my own hard dick still obvious in my jeans, and swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Why—why don’t you come and get it then,” I wavered.
“No,” Derrek said flatly.
“I—what do you mean, no?”
“I don’t have to come and get it. You’re going to take care of it yourself. Now.”
Carefully, I tucked a hand under my shirt and pulled it slowly up my body, running the tips of my fingers over my abs as I trailed up toward my nipples. I unzipped my jeans with my other hand, biting gently on my lower lip.
Derrek watched in silence, his lips twitching as he fought the almost manic smile pulling at them.
I dropped my shirt and unbuttoned my jeans, pulling everything down to my knees. My dick swung out from my boxer-briefs, and I began pumping with slow, meaningful strokes while my other hand switched from nipple to nipple. Derrek loosed a low, feral moan, stroking his own already-hard-again dick where he leaned in front of me.
Derrek reached a hand up under his shirt, too, a deep rumble originating from his throat the harder he stroked, and I dropped to my knees in front of him, shuddering at how close I was to finishing. He stood over me and I opened my mouth, ready to drink his second load as it spattered across my cheek, stray shots of cum slamming into my neck and chest.
My cock twitched in my hand as I shot across the floor, both of us breathing heavily as Derrek leaned forward, licked his load from my cheek and kissed me, his tongue powerful against mine.
We looked at each other nose-to-nose, Derrek bent uncomfortably over me as I knelt in front of him, and we began to laugh. His hand fell from the back of my head as he stood up straight and stretched, and my legs shook as I wobbled my way to my feet.
My eyes darted around the room to find something we could clean up with, but Derrek was already walking back toward me with a gym bag, a towel visible through the open zipper.
“Oh my god, did you plan this?” I asked, catching the towel he arced toward me.
“What can I say, I never know if I’ll be able to control myself around you,” he said.
I snorted, busying myself with the towel. “Want some bread for all that cheese?”
“Only if you’re the one serving,” he said, grinning as I rolled my eyes. “They were for the gym.”
It took us a few minutes to compose ourselves, and I refused to leave until I’d found a mop and bucket in the back corner to clean the floor. I’d have to give it a proper cleaning later. As we made our way out with more chairs in hand, a familiar voice made me stop cold.
“…I’ll just grab some chairs until he gets here.”
I didn’t think Oliver would still be willing to help set up after our talk. Derrek unlocked the door seconds before I saw the handle turn and took a step back to avoid being knocked off his feet. Oliver stumbled forward, and I caught one of the chairs Derrek dropped to help steady him.
“Thanks, A—oh. Who are you?” Oliver said before darting his eyes from Derrek to me and back again. “Oh. Oh.”
He turned to leave, but stopped suddenly in the doorway and spun to face me, his mouth looking for the right words. Failing to find them, Oliver pushed past us and began to pace. Derrek and I looked at each other. It wasn’t exactly how I’d hoped they’d meet, and Derrek seemed at a loss about what to do. He put down the chair under his other arm and closed the door again, waving me to follow him.
“Olly…this is Derrek,” I said, and Derrek lifted his hand in a small wave.
“Ah, Oliver,” Derrek said. “The best friend.”
“No—uh, I mean yes—um, I guess—hey,” Olly sputtered, arms hanging numbly at his sides. “Shouldn’t you be, like, in a car or something?” he said roughly. Derrek couldn’t hide his slight wince, and I moved to put myself between them.
“Derrek skipped out on his racing stuff to surprise me,” I said, watching Derrek’s body language soften as he moved to stand taller, offering Oliver a warm smile. Olly did his best to smile back, but it was the closest thing to a gentle grimace I’d ever seen on his face.
He unfolded one of the chairs and took a seat.
“I always help you set up,” he said, the barest hint of a crack in his voice.
“I…I mean, I wasn’t sure if you were gonna after we talked, so—”
“Remember when I said I wanted things to be back to normal between us eventually?” Olly interrupted.
“Yeah…” I drawled.
“This is me trying to keep things normal between us, doing the things I always do.” He crossed his legs up on his chair and slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “How exactly do you expect me to deal with things if I can’t be around to deal with them?”
I opened my mouth to speak up, but Olly was right.
“I, uh, I guess you got enough space then?” I asked hesitantly, and Oliver narrowed his eyes at me.
“Should I leave you two alone?” Derrek interjected, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“No,” Olly and I said in unison as we turned our heads toward Derrek. We looked at each other, my chest burning. The glint in Oliver’s eye as we quickly broke our quiet stare spoke volumes.
He was trying.
It might not be right away, but things were going to be fine between us after all.
Oliver stood up and shuffled from foot to foot before walking over to me. I rushed forward to hug him, but he planted a hand firmly on my chest to keep me at a distance.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not there yet.”
“Okay,” I said, a little defeated. “I’m glad you’re here, though.”
Oliver folded his chair and picked it up, stopping in front of Derrek.
“If you hurt him, I will find this exact chair and beat you with it,” he said. Derrek’s eyes widened, his lips a soft ‘O’ on his face. “We have a store to set
up.” Oliver marched through the door to the storefront, holding the chair in both hands as Derrek turned to me, concern clear on his face.
“He’s okay, right?”
“He will be,” I said, looking thoughtfully after Olly as he turned the corner. I swore I saw his eyes dart back toward us as he tried his hardest not to turn his head. Derrek rested a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“And you?” he breathed, moving in closer.
I lifted a hand to rest on top of his, our fingers brushing warmly.
“I will be, too,” I said, and I finally felt like it was true.
“Oliver is right, you know,” he said, surprising me.
“About beating you with a chair if you hurt me?”
“Probably yes, but also about having a store to set up.”
He kissed my cheek and I moved my hand to gently touch where the prickle of his stubble scratched at my face. Lifting a chair under either arm, Derrek took three steps before the echo of his ringtone filled the room. He grimaced and turned toward me, sticking his hip out for me to take the phone from his pocket.
A flat, angry voice greeted me before the phone had even reached my ear.
“Is there a reason you’re not here, in your car, proving to me I should stay on as your sponsorship coordinator?” Diana’s voice spat, about as bubbly as the first—and hopefully last—time I’d met her.
“I don’t drive,” I whispered back forcefully, greeted by a brief pause.
“Who are you, the latest fling? Where is Derrek?” she barked.
I rolled my eyes and pushed the phone out to Derrek, who looked confused.
“It’s Beelzebub,” I said trading his phone for the chair under one of his arms. “I think she wants to drag you back to hell in a car. Have fun with that.” I hurried as quickly as I could back to the storefront, not wanting to be around for what would definitely be an awkward exchange.
Curiosity getting the best of me, I immediately handed the chair off to a passing employee and leaned against the wall by the counter, out of Derrek’s sight. Oliver approached from where he was setting up chairs and I lifted a finger to my lips, hoping he’d catch the hint. He squirmed where he stood, uncomfortable that he could just barely make out Derrek’s words from where we stood.
“Are you really threatening to resign, Diana? You know how much money I make you. Nobody drives like me,” he fired off, the grit clear in his voice. “I don’t need to be practicing all day. You don’t need me there for tune-ups and meetings.” I could hear his boots kick against the floor in frustration. I jumped when I heard a heavy fist slam against the side of a box. “Don’t, Diana. Don’t you ever speak like that about him.”
My body shook as a great shiver rocked through my chest. Oliver backed away uncomfortably, busying himself across the room with more setup, and I stepped into the doorway. Derrek looked up at me suddenly, his eyes soft despite the heaviness behind them.
“You’re out of line. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Goodbye,” he spat, tossing his phone forcefully into his gym bag.
I could feel the heat radiating from Derrek’s body even across the room. His hands were balled into tight fists at his sides, his shoulders practically vibrating. When he saw me take a step forward, Derrek rushed toward me, enveloping me in a tight, comfortable embrace. I wriggled my arms around his waist and listened to his heavy breath on my skin.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured into his neck.
He went rigid in front of me and jerked his head up, clamping his hands on my shoulders.
“For what?” he said, his dark eyes thoughtful. “She’s overstepping. I have to have a talk with her about boundaries. She’ll understand.” He scoffed. “She’ll have to understand. She’s the best in the game, but she needs me, too. I make her piles of money.”
“I just don’t want to be the guy who tanks his boyfriend’s dream job,” I said.
Derrek smiled and leaned in for a kiss, his lips sweet against mine.
“You are the only person I’d give this up for. Besides,” he said, exhaling sharply, “I might only have one race left in me before I whisk you away to some beautiful place. How do you feel about Reykjavik?”
“Oh, because you know so much about it now, thanks to your tourist’s guide?” I joked. His laughter filled the space, the stiffness of his body language evaporating in it, and he kissed me again, slow and deep and strong.
“You guys are gross,” Oliver’s voice said from behind me.
Derrek side-stepped around me and went to stand in front of Oliver in the doorway. They looked at each other, Oliver’s eyes big and bright, Derrek’s a cool, dark stare, before Oliver stuck out a hand.
“I guess I can try to, I don’t know, get to know you. For Aiden,” Oliver said.
“I would like that,” Derrek said, clasping Oliver’s hand in his. “I’ve only heard good things about you.”
He turned to look at me where I was leaning uncomfortably against a shelf, nervously scratching a palm. Derrek turned back to Oliver and said something under his breath that made Olly stand up straighter. The shorter boy nodded, and the two of them turned to look at me.
“So are you gonna make us set up your store for tonight or what,” Olly said.
“Shut up,” I replied, fighting the prickle of tears. “Help me with these chairs.”
I couldn’t fight the deluge any more as thin streams ran down my cheeks, spilling over onto the smile that spread across my face.
There was stuff to work out between us, but if Olly and Derrek could be friends—if he could find a way to work through his emotions—maybe things really would be fine.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I woke up with a stretch, turning from my side to my back as I blinked the foggy feeling of sleep away. Derrek was stretched across the other side of my bed, one arm tucked behind a pillow, one leg bent at the knee, sheets and blankets barely hiding the more risqué parts of him. I peeked to my side, and it seemed like the steady rise and fall of his chest would continue for some time—he was still completely asleep.
Derrek had stayed for the entirety of open mic night, even helping with the cleanup. For hours—the hours Olly wasn’t on stage reading—he and Oliver tossed questions back and forth to each other like some creepy game of volleyball. By the end of the night, I thought Olly might know as much about Derrek as I did. More than once, I caught the two of them grinning wickedly at each other when I made my way back to our table, convinced they’d been sharing stories about me.
What kind of stories, I didn’t really want to know. I was just glad they seemed to be getting along, however standoffish Olly tried to be. We all went back to my apartment at the end of the night, Derrek eager to stay over and see the place.
Smiling, I rubbed my eyes and pulled myself up off the bed, Derrek rustling beside me. Even asleep, he found a way to carry himself with an impossible sexuality, his body all hard angles and trim muscle.
Yawning as quietly as I could, I slipped on the first t-shirt I pulled from my drawers and padded out into the kitchen for coffee to find Oliver already awake, scribbling hastily into one of his notebooks. He didn’t stop as I busied myself with the coffee-maker. As I spooned a healthy amount of coffee into the filter, he dropped his pen and turned.
“He seems cool,” Olly said, barely above a whisper.
He rubbed his heels together, sitting on a tall stool in a pair of boxers and a gigantic light blue sweater—his winter pajamas of choice. I was still in just a t-shirt and boxer-briefs myself—no matter the season, I always seemed to be too hot at night. I slowed and turned to look at him, still foggy from a night of deep sleep.
“Like, this is still weird for me, but…” Oliver cut himself off, picking up his pen again after a few seconds of hesitant silence. I glanced down at his page to see that he was making short, dark lines in the margins, his knuckles bone white as he dragged his pen meaningfully with calculated strokes.
“I’m happy you’re giving him a chance, Olly,” I
said, popping the filter into the coffee-maker and turning it on. I took the stool next to him and leaned on the counter with an elbow, propping my head up with my hand. “It really—”
“Hold on,” he interjected. “Let me finish.”
He dropped his pen and ran a hand through his dark hair, and I noticed it was longer than Olly usually kept it.
“This is still weird for me, but,” he continued, “I was watching you two from the stage last night. I mean, not even from the stage. It was pretty clear from anywhere in the room.”
“What was?” I asked.
“That…look that you give each other. Your eyes get so soft, so calm, and it doesn’t matter how many angles that guy’s stupid hot face has, he can’t hide it when he’s looking at you. Nobody else, Aiden. Just you.”
The slow trickle of water filled the room as the coffee-maker went to work, joining the slow tick of the wall clock and the gentle hum of the fridge in their usual morning racket, not a care in the world for the boy pouring his heart out across from me.
“We never looked at each other like that.”
I shuffled on my stool, turning to rest both arms crossed on the counter in front of me.
“No, I guess we didn’t,” I said. “I…don’t think I can do anything about that.”
“Oh my god,” Olly said, scoffing. “I’m not asking you to, you idiot. I’m telling you it’s fine. Or it will be, I guess. Eventually. Maybe I was just in my feelings a couple nights ago, I don’t know, but I care about you too much to get in the way of your happiness.”
He got up and pulled a mug from the cupboard behind us, helping himself to a generous amount of the coffee I’d just made before pouring a second mug and wobbling it over to me. He always filled it right to the brim, and it was always a bad idea. I blinked stupidly at him as he sat back down, pushing his notebook to the side just in time to avoid a great spatter of coffee.
“I didn’t get it until I saw you look at each other like that,” he went on. “We love each other, sure,” he said, gesturing between the two of us with a free hand. “But you two are in love with each other.”
