Rick laughed, and it felt good. They got quiet again until Rick said, “The thing is, I like you. I really like you.”
“I like you too.”
“No, not just like that. I mean”—he looked up and met Jimothy’s eyes—“I haven’t had so much fun hanging out with anyone ever, except Alice sometimes. You’re interesting and fun to be around.” He grinned. “And not just when you’re sucking my cock. Of course, that was fun too.”
Jimothy blinked hard. “Thank you. For liking me, I mean. I know I’m kind of an exotic dish.”
“You’re every kind of a dish.”
They smiled warmly at each other, but then Jimothy sighed.
“But I really am complicated, Rick, even if we say we’ll just be friends. First, that’ll be hard because we both know we’re attracted to each other, so that can make otherwise fun and comfortable moments awkward. I mean, I already know I’m not going to like seeing you with Melanie or any other woman.”
“Yeah, well, I sure didn’t like seeing you with Mr. Silver Asshole.”
Jimothy snorted. “And truthfully, friends usually share confidences about their social lives, so that’s not conducive to just hanging out.” He sipped wine. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’m a candidate for friends with benefits. Sucking your cock in the closet while you date Melanie in public sounds like a straight road to Dante’s Inferno to me.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do that.” That was sort of true.
They sighed at the same time.
Rick didn’t want to say a single damned word. It felt like a razor’s-edge moment, and in seconds, he could lose a lot.
Jimothy gave him a quick glance and said, “I think you have to get past this wedding before you can figure out anything. Assuming there’s anything to figure out, of course. So, let’s say we table further discussions until you get through this week. Seven days from tomorrow, we’ll talk and see how we’re both feeling then.” He stood, leaving his half-full wineglass on the table.
“Uh, okay.” Shit, not okay. So not okay. How would Rick get through the week not knowing what Jimothy was thinking? Not even being able to ask him for advice or anything? Still, Rick stood and followed Jimothy to the door. “Thank you again for—for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” He opened the door, looked back once over his shoulder maybe with the tiniest bit of expectation, then gave a half smile and walked away down the sidewalk to his car.
Words, pleas pushed against his lips, but Rick couldn’t get a word out. Slowly he closed the door and, absently, walked to the table, grabbed the glasses, and carried them to the kitchen. Seven days. They’d talk in seven days. He already knew what he wanted to say—that the idea of not seeing Jimothy, not talking to him again, was more than he could stand.
Milestones loomed in front of him. Milestones that had to be reached before he could honestly say those words. Coming out, otherwise known as confessing. Alice. She’d be the easy one. The guys like Fred and Jose? Hell, they worked for him. Not exactly an equal balance of power.
His father. He inhaled.
Shit, I can work someplace else. There must be construction companies that don’t care who I sleep with as long as I’m not doing it on company time. Of course, that’s assuming I have someone to sleep with.
He pressed his knuckles into his eye sockets, then carefully rinsed the glasses, dried, and put them on the shelf. Channeling Jimothy.
A tap on the door brought his head up. He glanced at his watch. Who’d be showing up at nearly eleven? If it was Mel—hell, Melanie could not, repeat not start showing up at his apartment whenever she felt like it. They didn’t have that kind of relationship, and they never would.
He stalked across the living room, threw open the door, and gasped.
Jimothy stood outside with the porchlight shining off his flower-colored hair. “Hi.”
“Uh, hi. I thought you’d gone. Did you forget something?” Rick glanced around the living room for anything Jimothy could have left behind.
“Kind of. Can I come in?”
“Oh sure, of course.” Rick stepped back, and Jimothy crossed in front of him into the living room. He turned. “I remembered that you said you’d like to do me a favor, or maybe a few favors.”
Rick’s pulse sped up. If Jimothy wanted Rick to do something for him, it might mean a reason to see him again and spend some more time with him. “Sure, absolutely? Something for your house? Just name it. It’s yours.”
Jimothy took two steps forward, which brought him so close to Rick he had to look up into Rick’s eyes. He stretched up and puckered his lips toward Rick’s ear. “How’d you like to let me fuck you?”
Heart attack. Is that what it was when your heart and respiration stopped? Rick knew he was staring but couldn’t wrangle a brain cell to form a coherent word.
Jimothy grinned. “I’m going to take that as a yes.” He wrapped a strong hand in Rick’s thick hair and pulled his head down within reach of the most amazing lips Rick had ever known. Soft, strong, and not taking no for an answer. Jimothy marauded his mouth, exploring the recesses with his tongue, then more gently sucking Rick’s lips between his own. The very kiss Rick had been dreaming about.
Rick pulled back long enough to yell, “Holy crap!” Then he dove back into the fray, wrapping his arms around Jimothy, clasping hands over his butt and lifting. Jimothy instantly took charge, winding his long, slim legs around Rick’s waist and thrusting his hips hard against Rick’s straining erection. Within seconds, they manifested a perfect machine, knees bent, Jimothy bouncing up and down against Rick, their bulges rubbing to the edge of explosion.
Jimothy gasped, “Bed. Now.”
Barely missing a beat, they frotted their way down the hall, alternatively gasping and laughing.
Rick lay Jimothy on the bed and toed off his own sneakers. Whirlwind Jimothy ripped his sweater over his head, rolled back, and kicked his feet like a little kid until his sparkly sneakers flew into the air and landed beside the bed, then went to work on his skintight jeans. He peeled them off, and Rick, who was busy trying to get his own clothes removed, froze.
“Holy blessed shit.”
Jimothy looked up and must have registered Rick’s glazed stare at the spangled, see-through, miniscule, pink thong-bikini pants Jimothy had been hiding under his jeans. He smiled evilly and stretched out like a languid cat, the movement popping the bulging head of his long, cut cock over the top of the panties. His dick was the same color as his underwear.
That looked like more than a mouthful, and Rick was up for the challenge. He licked his lips.
Jimothy bounded up onto his knees and planted his fists on his hips. “Oh no you don’t, bucko. Your ass is mine. Get those tighty-whities off and lie down.”
Rick started to shake. The whole idea of Jimothy’s cock in his ass made him light-headed. He ripped off his boxer briefs, tossed them on the floor, and crawled onto his hands and knees.
Jimothy jerked his finger. “Unh-uh. I want to see your face when I fuck you to make sure you’re not daydreaming about somebody else.” He barked a laugh.
Rick collapsed on the bed and turned over. “Who would I ever dream about if I can have you?”