
Dreamspinner Press www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright ©2009 by Rhianne Aile and Madeleine Urban
First published in 2009, 2009
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
David groaned when the bright sunlight hit his eyes as he walked from his office to the parking garage. His light eyes were sensitive and, today, when he needed them most, he'd left his sunglasses on the kitchen table. The fever and headache had started during the morning editorial meeting. By the time assignments had been agreed upon, he could barely focus. He hadn't had a migraine in almost a year, but he remembered the symptoms well. Telling his assistant he'd be out of the office for the rest of the day, he grabbed his keys and briefcase and had headed home.
Pulling into his driveway, the blond journalist folded himself out of his car, holding onto the door until the dizziness passed. He'd had to pull over to throw up twice on the way home and wanted nothing more than to pass out in a cool dark room. Praying that he had some of his old prescription pills still in his medicine cabinet, he groped his way into the house and down the hall. He hadn't even bothered to bring his briefcase and cell phone inside. There was no way he was getting any work done today.
Ten minutes later, dressed in nothing but boxers, David Carmichael ran a frustrated hand through his short blond hair, leaving it standing up at odd angles. Tearing open the bedside drawer, he plundered the contents, condoms and cigarettes falling to the floor. No medicine. "Fuck!" he swore. He could call the doctor and get some called in, but there was no way he could drive to the pharmacy. Collapsing on the bed, which was just too tempting to ignore, he reached for the phone. First he called his doctor's office. The nurse promised to call in a fresh set of refills for his prescription. Second, he phoned Trace. If you couldn't call on your best friend to bring you medicine, when could you call him?
Trace was driving down Seaside Drive with the top down when his phone rang. He hit the button on his Bluetooth. "Trace Jackson," he said.
"Trace," David rasped, rolling over so the phone was pressed between his ear and the pillow, too tired to hold it up. "I need your help."
"David? You sound like shit," Trace said, voice tinged with concern.
"Yeah." David shifted and swallowed down another wave of nausea. "I've got a migraine ... bad."
"Hell. Been a long time. You got your meds? Where are you?" Trace said as he turned into a parking lot to turn around and head back to town.
"No, no meds. Can't find them, or I threw them out. It's been so long. The nurse called some in. Walgreens on Eighth." David paused to catch his breath. Even his own voice in his head was too loud.
"David, man, go lay down. Put a wet washcloth over your eyes or something. I'll pick up the meds. Anything else? Gatorade?" Trace asked, turning off Seaside onto a busier street.
"Already lying down, but the fuckin' bed is spinning. Just get me drugs."
"All right. I'll be there soon," Trace said, hitting the button to end the call and focus on traffic. He wanted to get there as soon as possible. It had been a long time since David had last a migraine, but when he got one it was usually a doozy.
Half an hour later, he pulled in behind David's car and headed to the back door, prescription bag in hand. Using his key, he went straight into the kitchen, tossed the bag on the counter, and found a glass for cold water from the fridge. Trace tore open the bag and fumbled with the bottle, cussing the childproof top under his breath. Pills in hand, he grabbed the glass of water and headed back to David's room.
It was dim inside, the heavy drapes blocking out the light, and Trace could see his friend curled up on the bed. "David?" he said softly, walking over to perch on the side of the bed next to him.
David moaned as the bed rocked. Cracking one eye, he looked up at the tall, broad-shouldered brunet looking down at him, brows drawn together in worry. "I'm not dying," he croaked. "No matter how much I might wish it. Fuck!"
Trace winced at how sunken David's eyes looked. "Here," he said quietly. "I bring pain relief."
"My hero." David reached for the pills, lifting up on his elbow to be able to drink the water.
Nodding, Trace waited for David to hand back the glass. He set it on the nightstand and ran his hand lightly over David's forehead. "You're hot too," he said. He stood up and went to the bathroom, wet a cloth with cool water, and brought it back to gently lay it over David's eyes.
David hissed as the cold cloth hit his superheated skin. His entire body shuddered. "Covers," he said, struggling to get up so he could get under the blanket.
Frowning, Trace reached to pull up the blanket, tucking it around David's shoulders. "Sorry, man," he murmured. David looked really miserable.
"Thanks for playing errand boy. I'm sorry I interrupted your day. Go back to work. I'll live. I'm too ornery to die." The blond chuckled at his own joke, causing stabbing pain to shoot through his head until he was gasping. "Fuck," he panted, lying limp. "I think I'll stick around, just in case. I've not seen you hurting this bad in a long time," Trace murmured. "Humor me, okay?"
David would have glared at his friend if the muscles in his face hadn't hurt so badly. Instead he settled for a small frown and a complaint. "When was the last time you cut your hair, Jackson?" It was petty, but doing something as normal as picking on his friend's habit of wearing his hair so long it brushed below his shoulders made him feel just slightly better. He drifted to sleep with one corner of his mouth crooked up.
Trace's mouth quirked as David ribbed him. It was a longtime tease. He held the cool cloth against David's face for a while and then set it aside. Sitting there, he decided he might as well work on his story. He went out to the car and got his laptop and notes. Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and shed his jacket, pulled his tie loose and tossed it aside. Back in the bedroom, he climbed onto the opposite side of the huge bed from David, booted up the laptop, slid his glasses on, and settled in to work.
David was dreaming that he'd fallen asleep at work. His body was stiff from being laid back in his chair with his feet propped on his desk, and he could hear his assistant typing on her keyboard. He started to get up, but his feet were tangled in something. He started to fall.... Waking with a start that jarred his head, David cried out, attempting to sit up, his feet thrashing in the blanket wrapped around his legs.
As soon as David started moving, Trace dropped his pen and notebook and reached over, trying to calm him down. "David. Hey, you're okay," he said, trying to pull at the blanket so his friend wouldn't wrap it any further around himself. He held onto his laptop with his other hand, trying to keep it from sliding off his thighs.
Trace? What the fuck was Trace doing in his office? The two men had been friends for ages, but since they worked for rival newspapers, they never visited each other at work. "Trace? What? Why?"
"David," Trace said patiently. "C'mon; wake up. You're hopped up on pain meds, man." He shook his friend's shoulder gently.
David opened his eyes, the dark room swimming into focus. Trace was leaning over him. "Oh, wouldn't The Mirror just love to get a picture of this: 'Warring newspaper correspondents found in bed together.' I can see the headlines now. Katherine would have her panties in a serious twist. Fuck, I'm thirsty. I feel like a circus train has traveled though my mouth." His head fell forward, landing on Trace's firm thigh instead of the bed, and he yanked it back, causing a spike of pain and wave of dizziness.
"Careful," Trace cautioned, reaching out to help steady him. "You still look like hell, man. Hang on; I'll get you something to drink." He set the laptop down on the bed and stood up, trying not to jostle the mattress. "Stay put," he ordered with a pointed finger before leaving the room.
"Like I have a choice," David muttered, sinking back against the pillows gingerly. Glancing at the clock, he mentally calculated. He was at the peak of his medicine, and the headache was still there---better, but still there and strong. That didn't bode well. The prescription worked, but not for the full six hours before he could take another dose. If two and a half hours in, he still had symptoms this bad, it would be back with a vengeance in another two. He needed to try to eat while he might be able to keep food down, and it was foolish, but he really wanted a shower too.
Trace reentered the room carrying a tall glass of the decaffeinated iced tea David kept in the fridge. "Try this," he suggested, sitting on the edge near him. Over the past couple of hours his hair had come loose of the band he used to hold it back, and he was still wearing his glasses, something he hated doing around other people. But David had seen them before.
David had to grin at Trace's disheveled appearance. The swanky journalist had a fashion-plate reputation that he wasn't living up to at the moment. Reaching for the glass, David swallowed half of it in one gulp before his stomach lurched in protest. He set it carefully on the nightstand. "Thanks."
Nodding, Trace leaned on one arm on the mattress. "Pills not helping, huh?" Normally blond and hale and healthy, David's face had a gray tinge, and his eyes looked clouded. It was a big change.
David let his eyes close. "Oh, they're helping, but when I get one this bad, they just cut the pain. They don't kill it."
"Anything else help?" Trace asked, glancing at the floor as his sock foot slipped over something. He pushed up his glasses, seeing the mess scattered around the nightstand. "I see you rifled the drawers looking for your pills," he said, reaching down to pick up the magazine his foot had touched.
"Would I ever hear the end of it if I asked you to rub my shoulders and maybe my scalp?"
Glancing back to David before he turned over the magazine to see the front, Trace frowned slightly. "You're hurting, David. If I can help, it's no problem." He dropped the magazine in the drawer, pausing long enough to scoop up the rest of the mess as well, raising a brow a bit at some of the contents: pens and notebooks, of course; condoms and lubricant---he shouldn't be surprised at that; a half-empty bag of wintergreens; a lighter and a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Trace frowned. He thought David had quit. He dumped it all in the drawer before noticing something half under the bed, so he bent over to reach for it.
David rolled over and pushed the pillow out of the way so he could lie flat on the bed. "Thanks, Trace. At this point I'd even take the razzing. I owe you one."
Trace's fingers closed around something cool that felt like a gel pack, but it was rounded and---he blinked when he pulled a dildo out from under the mattress. His eyes shifted to David in surprise, but the other man was lying there with his eyes closed. He was tempted---really, really tempted---to start that razzing right now. He looked back down at it, heavy and thick and about eight inches long, and then he laid it in the drawer and pushed the drawer closed.
Turning some more on the bed, Trace slid his fingers into David's hair and started rubbing gently with one hand before adding the other for a soothing massage. Meanwhile, he thought about what he'd found. There were easy answers, sure. David could be fucking a woman and using the dildo on her too, or just using the dildo, or any number of playful things Trace himself had indulged in. But then there were more ... interesting ... answers. He laughed silently at his out-of-place musings.
David moaned, a sound of sublime pleasure instead of pain for the first time since this headache had hit. "God, that's good. Just a little harder."
Now that his mind was on things erotic, Trace couldn't help but interpret the tone of David's voice in that context. As he strengthened the rubbing, he stifled a chuckle. He knew David had a healthy sex life, but it was just one of those things they hadn't happened to talk about over the years. The noises coming from the other man sounded pretty good to him, not that he'd ever heard another man during sex with the exception of in a movie. He kept sliding his fingers over David's skull with one hand, sliding the other down to the base of his neck and lightly kneading with strong fingers.
David's shoulders rose into the touch, and he purred. Between the medicine and the light touch, he felt better than he had in hours. "You have fuckin' brilliant hands."
"So I've been told," Trace drawled, working more on David's neck.
David took a deep breath, relaxing into the touch, and the silence wrapped around him. A good friend was a rare find, and Trace was the best. As the massage relieved more and more of the pain, his body began reacting in a different way, his cock twitching where it lay trapped between his body and the mattress. David tensed, the pain returning slightly and dissuading his cock of its interest. He and Trace had been friends for years without the slightest hint of sexual attraction. They were buddies, and David was absolutely certain Trace was straight. They talked politics and sports, not sex, and his friend had quite the social reputation that spoke for itself. Either way, the blond had no interest in losing his best friend over a quick roll in the hay. "I think maybe I'll try to take a shower while I still feel halfway decent," he mumbled into the sheet.
Trace's hands paused in their rubbing. "What do you mean 'still'?" he asked, brow furrowing. "Is the migraine going to get worse?" he asked in concern, restarting the massage gently. It bothered him to see his best friend hurting so much.
"Yeah, if I can head them off in the first hour, sometimes one dose will make them go away, but when they get a good foothold like it did today, it is usually twenty-four hours. The problem is that I can only take a dose every six hours and the pain relief lasts four at best." David told himself he should move, but Trace's fingers felt so good that he couldn't bring himself to tell him to stop.
"What for-shit meds are those?" Trace asked, exasperated. "All right. Get a shower. Sure I can't fix you something to eat?" He slowly pulled his hands out of his friend's hair, not wanting to pull it and cause David any more pain. He brushed the fluffed bangs out of David's eyes.
"Yeah, I should try to eat. Check the pantry and see if I have any soup. Needs to be broth, not cream." David grimaced as he moved off the bed. "I'm gonna leave the door open. Between the headache and the meds, I might be a little unstable."
"Just be careful, David. You don't need a broken arm or something," Trace said, standing up and watching David cautiously to make sure he at least made it to the bathroom.
Stripping out of his clothes, David sat on the edge of the tub to keep from leaning over while he started the shower. Stepping into the warm spray, he braced his hands on the cool tile wall and let the water sluice over his body. Between the medicine, Trace's hands, and the shower, he was actually feeling pretty good. When he started to feel a little shaky, he got out and reached for a towel, blotting the skin of his upper body. It was amazing how sensitive a migraine made everything. Bending down to dry his legs, the room started to spin. "Fuck," was all he got out as the world tilted and went black.
Trace was in the kitchen stirring the soup when he heard a loud thump. His eyes widened and he dropped the spoon and ran, yanking himself around the corner and barreling down the hall into the bedroom and to the bathroom door. "Shit!" he swore, seeing David sprawled on the floor awkwardly. He knelt down and pulled him into more of a sitting position, feeling around the back of his head, relieved to find no blood. Heart still pounding from the scare, he cursed under his breath and held David against his lap. "David. David?" He lightly patted the other man's cheek, unsure what to do.
Pinpoints of light like the sparklers kids use on the Fourth of July played on the dark backdrop of David's eyelids. His head was throbbing again and so was his shoulder. He could hear Trace's voice, but it sounded far away. "Trace?"
"David? Come on, open your eyes. Please? You're scaring the hell outta me."
The voice was closer---clearer---and worried. Without opening his eyes, David spoke. "I'm okay. Head just hurts like hell. The last thing I remember was being in the shower."
"Yeah, well, now you're on the floor. Did you hurt anything? Did you hit your head?"
"I don't know." David opened his eyes and winced, immediately closing them again. "My shoulder hurts too."
The quick flutter of David's eyes wasn't enough for Trace to judge his condition one way or another. "Which shoulder? The one you were laying on?" He slid his arm up to it, squeezing the joint gently.
"Ow! Fuck, yeah, that'd be the one. Flip the lights off, will ya, so I can hobble my way back to bed."
"I'm helping you this time. Shit, David. You could have broken something or worse." Trace's voice was ragged with concern as he half-lifted David from the floor and helped him stay on his feet. It wasn't until he slid his arm around David's waist and his fingers touched a bare hip that he realized David was still nude. Well, he thought, it won't matter once he's between the sheets.
Grateful for the support, David leaned into Trace's strength, the friction of his friend's clothes highlighting his own lack of covering. "Fuck," he muttered, whispering a silent prayer that their friendship would survive this day.
"What?" Trace asked, voice sharp with worry as they limped to the bed. "You okay? Something hurting?"
"No, I just realized I was naked as a jaybird. You should be getting hazard pay for this visit." Sitting on the side of the bed, David nodded gingerly toward the dresser. "You want to get me some boxers so I don't offend your delicate sensibilities?"
Trace snorted. "David, I've got a set of the same gear myself. I think I'll survive the embarrassment." He reached up and pulled down the sheets, waiting for David to shift so he could get under the covers. Then he grabbed three of the four pillows and propped him up on them. "I'll get the soup, if it's not scorched by now. I sort of dropped the spoon and ran," he said as he left the bedroom.
David swallowed the lump in his throat, unsure if it was the thought of food or Trace's tender concern that had put it there. Florence Nightingale was not a role he'd have ever cast Trace in, but the hard-nosed reporter made a damn fine nurse.
The soup was, indeed, ruined, so Trace dumped it into the sink and started a new pot. It only took about ten minutes, and he headed back to the bedroom with two mugs and a sleeve of crackers. "Here you go. First-class service," he said drolly, setting the mug on the nightstand nearest David. He walked around the bed and sat on the other side, carefully opened the crackers and set them on the sheets between them.
"I can't believe your lovers let you get away with eating crackers in bed," David exclaimed, blowing the steam off the top of his soup.
Trace shrugged, munching on a crisp wafer. "Usually my bed, so I do what I want, right?" He sipped at the soup carefully before picking up a cracker and handing it to David. "Besides. You're not my lover."
David had a flash of sitting naked in bed with Trace for a reason other than illness, the easy camaraderie they shared spilling over into a more intimate relationship. He felt a momentary pang, but dismissed it as side effects from the migraine. His initial flippant retort died on his tongue and he said, "No.... No, I'm not."
Glancing sideways at David, Trace helped himself to another cracker. "So. Four hours until you can take another pill. You ought to try to sleep. I'll wake you up when it's time," he suggested, thinking about the progress he could make on his performance arts center impact report in the meantime.
Setting the mug aside, still more than half-full, David slid down in the bed, the cool sheets soft against his skin. "Yeah. I think I'll try to do that. Don't get crumbs in my bed, Jackson."
Trace watched him get comfortable, and then went back to his soup without comment. It wasn't long before David's breaths evened out, and once Trace set aside his empty mug, he watched the other man for a bit before pulling his laptop within reach and getting back to work.
A soft beeping woke Trace up slowly. First he frowned, trying to figure out what it was, then he tried to figure out why he was so uncomfortable. He pried open his eyes. His focus was off because his glasses were skewed half off his face. He straightened them and looked around.
"Oh. Yeah," he murmured. He was at David's---in David's bed actually---slumped against the headboard still fully dressed and now totally wrinkled. The lamp on the table next to him threw soft light into the room, and the beeping came from his laptop's low battery. It was tilted onto its side, having slid off Trace's legs. Then he looked down.
David was curled up next to him, and his blond head was pillowed on Trace's thigh. Trace's arm was curled behind him, practically holding him in place. Bemused, he drew a breath, trying to wake up, and he yawned largely. A glance at the laptop's clock showed it was mid-evening. He must have dropped off while working on the report. Slightly annoyed by the beeping, he shut the laptop down and carefully lifted it to set it on the nightstand. Then he looked back down at David.
He looked more relaxed, some of the warm color back in his face, most of the pained lines relieved. His usually sharp, defined features were softened in sleep, and without thinking about it, Trace slid his fingers into the roughed-up hair, petting gently. The reporter yawned again and thought about going back to sleep.
David woke into that warm, fuzzy half-asleep place and contemplated letting the meds pull him back down. He remembered waking several hours earlier when the pain returned. Trace had brought him another pill and supported him while he drank enough water to get it down. Thankfully, the second dose had knocked him back out quickly. Taking a brief inventory of his body, he discovered that his shoulder hurt more than his head. He'd shifted into a comfortable position to get the pressure off of it and.... Suddenly alert, David rubbed his cheek over. He opened his eyes cautiously. Shit. Trace's leg. He was trying to figure out how to gracefully extricate himself from his best friend's lap when he saw Trace staring down at him.
"Hey," Trace greeted softly, pulling his hand back from David's hair. "How are you feeling?" He was somewhat surprised by how David's head moving in his lap made his body take interest, but he dismissed it. He'd always been a really tactile person, and he carried on an active sex life. It was a great outlet for stress, and he enjoyed it. He'd made peace with his touchy-feely tendencies a long time ago.
"Ah, hey," David answered, his voice dry and raspy, one of the side effects of the medicine. "Seems like on top of everything else, I've used you as a pillow." He pushed himself up slowly.
Trace smiled. "It's okay," he said, not moving out of place. "You look like you feel better."
"I do. I think I might even be hungry," David admitted with a smile. "I'm sure as hell sick of being in this bed. If I can make it to the kitchen table, think you could heat up some more soup?"
"Sure," Trace agreed good-naturedly. He needed to plug his laptop in anyway. He could duck out to the car and get the power cord. "Any other requests, your majesty?" he poked as he slid off the bed to stand, reaching above his head to stretch.
David turned with a cocky retort that evaporated as he watched Trace. The tall brunet's lanky frame seemed to go on forever extended like that, wide shoulders tapering down to narrow hips. His shirt had come untucked, the bottom two buttons pulled loose, revealing a triangle of tan skin bisected by a strip of dark hair. David swallowed, his mouth all of a sudden dry for a completely different reason.
Trace yawned as he stretched and tilted his head side to side, groaning when his neck popped. He dropped his arms and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Sleeping sitting up sucks," he muttered before stepping on a sock's toe with one foot to pull his foot free, then working off the other sock before padding out of the bedroom barefoot.
Mute, David watched him leave. He needed to get Trace out of here. He couldn't imagine getting through the past eight hours without him, but the closeness was obviously messing with his head. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he let his legs stabilize before donning a pair of boxers and following Trace to the kitchen.
Trace washed out the pot first and set it back on the stove before stooping over and spinning the lazy Susan, looking for another can of soup or two. More chicken noodle. Tomato. Cheddar broccoli. Chunky vegetable beef. Yum. He pulled out the can and leaned over a little more to see the selection on the bottom shelf.
David stepped into the kitchen, feeling accomplished that he'd made it that far. "Trace." His words stuttered to a halt. Trace had an absolutely amazing ass. Bent over, one foot slightly raised for balance, his shirt sliding up the broad, muscular back---David would have to be a heterosexual saint to resist that image, and he was neither. His groin tightened, and he felt his cock twitch and swell. Fuck!
"Hmmm?" Trace answered before standing back up with another can of soup, reaching to tuck his hair behind one ear. "You want vegetable beef or golden mushroom?" he asked, spinning the lazy Susan closed.
Sliding into a chair, David let the table hide everything from his chest down. "Eww.... Yuck. I don't do mushrooms. That can has been in there since my mother came to visit three years ago. She uses it to make gravy. Vegetable beef, please." Trace's hand drew David's attention to the long dark hair that he enjoyed ribbing his friend about. For the first time, he wondered how it would feel. Was it soft or coarse? Apparently there were things he didn't know about the man he thought he knew quite well. "What do you like on your pizza?" he blurted.
"Not too fond of pizza, actually. Unless I can get something without tomato sauce. Angelo's does a spinach alfredo pizza and a barbecue chicken pizza," Trace said as he opened the can and poured it into the pot, not at all thrown by the non sequitur.
"Really? I don't like tomato sauce either---on pizza at least. There is a little Italian place up the north coast road that does a seafood pizza with a Parmesan cream sauce that is awesome. I don't like barbecue. Too sweet." David couldn't believe with all the ballgames they'd watched that they'd never discussed pizza. Beer, yes. Hot dogs and toppings, yes. Popcorn versus cotton candy, even. What else didn't he know?
"So. What happened with Annemarie a couple weekends ago. Is she still around?" he asked.
Trace turned to look at David. "It wasn't serious," he said. "She didn't ... I mean, I didn't stick around. I don't do sticky."
David chuckled. "A different girl every week. playboy," he teased.
Trace shrugged as he smiled. "Nothing wrong with that."
David tried to think of the last time he'd had sex and was having trouble remembering. "I think I'm getting old. The whole meeting and getting to know someone thing is just too much effort, and I'm not much of a casual-sex person."
Trace tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot and set it aside before turning around, giving David an incredulous look. "Old? David, you're what? Forty-two? Forty-three? That's nowhere near even approaching old. And there's nothing wrong with casual sex," he added, crossing his arms. "As long as both people know up front, anyway."
"I'm not against it, and I agree with you, but ... well.... "How did you tell your best friend that you were gay and, frankly, scared to death of AIDS? Pre-AIDS, David had been what some would call promiscuous, but after watching more than one lover waste away and die, he couldn't bring himself to take the risk. He was clean, but it was purely luck. In the past decade, he hadn't been a monk, but he used condoms religiously and found himself wanting to know more and more about his lovers before he'd sleep with them. He stared at Trace. What could he say?
Raising a brow when David trailed off, Trace just tilted his head and turned back to the soup. Sex wasn't a topic they ever talked about. Now he idly wondered why. Wasn't that something guys usually went on about, comparing experiences and women and what they liked and didn't? That was about how it was when Trace went out with the guys from work. But not with David. He mused about that while he stirred the soup slowly.
David felt the hollowness of the silence that hung between them. It felt different. Before they just hadn't talked about it. Now he felt like he was hiding something. "I'm gay," he blurted before he could back out. "I've seen too many friends become pale reflections of the men they once were because of AIDS. I guess it just makes me overly cautious." Keeping his eyes on Trace's back, he braced himself for the reaction.
Trace blinked, and his hand stilled the spoon for a moment. Gay? David? He'd known the man better than five years now. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
Holding his breath, David bit his tongue. He didn't have to defend his life to anyone. If Trace couldn't deal with him the way he was, he'd be sad and probably a little pissed, but it wouldn't be the first time that someone had judged him.
Trace started stirring again before he answered. "Makes you smart, in my opinion," he said thoughtfully. "Can't be too careful these days."
David released his breath with a sigh. "Thanks," he said softly.
Trace set down the spoon and picked up the pot, grabbing two bowls with his other hand as he turned to the table. "You're welcome," he said quietly as he poured out the soup.
Eating in silence, David felt something he hadn't felt in a really long time: completely comfortable.
Once he finished with his bowl, Trace got up and took it and the pot to the sink, washing them both out. Remembering the mugs in the bedroom, he headed back there to fetch them and clean it all up at once. He was still turning over this new information about David in his head, but for the most part, it didn't bother him. They were still best friends. It wouldn't change that. Even with the new information, he didn't feel uncomfortable around David. He'd never felt uncomfortable before, so there was no reason for it to change anything. Decided, Trace grabbed up the mugs and turned back to the kitchen.
David got up to help Trace with the dishes. He felt weak, but not the least bit dizzy. Running some water into the pot in the sink, he went to lift it to the counter to soak while he rinsed the bowls. "Ow! Fuck!" he swore, stabs of sharp pain radiating from his shoulder and his arm going numb. The pot fell back into the sink with a crash, and David leaned heavily against the counter for support.
Shocked by the loud, sudden noise, Trace hurried around the corner, a mug in each hand. "David? What's wrong?" He shoved the mugs onto the counter, not even noticing the cold chicken noodle slopping over as he raised his hands to help. He was almost afraid to touch David.
Head hanging forward, his eyes tightly closed, David took several deep breaths. "Fuck, that hurt!" he swore, making his way over to the kitchen chair with Trace hovering, apparently worried about where he could safely touch the blond to help without hurting him. "I went to pick up the pot full of water and my shoulder.... Damn! I'm afraid I may have really screwed something up when I fell. When it's just at my side, it aches, but that was a sharp, stabbing, bring tears to your eyes and steal your breath kind of pain."
"Damn it, I was afraid something like this would happen when you insisted on that damn shower. C'mon; we're getting you dressed, and I'm taking you to the emergency room," Trace insisted, urging David toward the bedroom. "You might have broken something." David sat with his head cradled in the palm of his good hand. "You know, with the way this day is going, I'm afraid to get in a car. We'll never make it to the hospital in one piece." He chuckled mirthlessly. He was only half-kidding. With a weary sigh, he pushed to his feet and shuffled miserably to the bedroom. Picking out a worn pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes was no problem, but actually getting into them was proving to be a feat of mechanical engineering. Giving up, he swallowed his pride and called for Trace.
"I should've thought of that. Sorry," Trace murmured as he walked into the bedroom. He took the jeans from him and knelt down, pooling the legs so David could step into them, and he pulled the denim up over firm thighs to settle the waistband, even zipping and buttoning him up carefully before reaching for the T-shirt.
Biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, David tried to control his body's reaction to Trace's innocent touches. Every place that the brunet's fingers brushed his skin prickled with awareness. When the back of his hand grazed a nipple while maneuvering the
T-shirt on without hurting his shoulder, David gasped, barely restraining a moan.
Trace grimaced. "Sorry, David," he murmured, figuring he'd pulled too hard. "You got any Birks or something to wear besides running shoes?" he asked, walking over to the closet and peering down at the floor.
David really wished that Trace would quit presenting him with images of his ass, trousers stretched tightly over hard muscle. His eyes closed on a sigh. "Yeah, there's a pair in the corner." Slipping his feet in the sandals, the blond rested a hand on Trace's back for balance. "Let's get this over with."
"Six hours. Six fuckin' hours. Good thing whatever was wrong with me wasn't life threatening," David complained, sliding out of Trace's car, which was finally back in David's driveway.
Trace just humored him with a "mmm hmmm," not even rolling his eyes. When he'd broken his arm a few years back, he'd sat in the ER for at least that long before seeing anyone. "I'll get those," he said, plucking the bags out of the car before David could lean over to get it. "No more bending over for you."
"And exactly how are you planning on pulling that one off?" David teased, leaning against the roof of the car as Trace locked the doors. "Living tends to involve at least a little bending over." David giggled at the double meaning of the words, punchy from the pain meds they'd given him at the hospital.
Grinning, Trace walked around the front of the car, shaking his head a little. "You're looped, man. Come on. Inside with you. You're on bed rest for a few days." He took David by the good arm and made sure he got up the stairs, unlocked the door, and nudged him toward his bedroom.
"Well, I must say it's refreshing to have a man trying to get me to bed who doesn't want me to bend over," David chuckled, kicking off his shoes and stretching out on the bed with a sigh. "Ahhh.... Tired...."
Trace smiled and pushed David's legs under the sheets, pulling the covers up over him. "Just try not to roll over on that shoulder, huh? I don't want to be awakened by a howling shriek," he teased.
David mumbled something unintelligible and was asleep before his friend left the room. Trace pulled the door shut and went to the kitchen to make a note to himself to call David's boss, telling him what happened. He'd ask his own boss about working half-days next week. He'd go in tomorrow---actually, today, since it was 3 a.m.---to finish up his big project piece for Sunday. Exhausted, Trace figured he could catch a few hours' sleep, so he turned off the lights, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants to be more comfortable, and laid down on the leather couch to sleep.
The second time he caught himself sliding off the slick leather, he got up with a muffled curse and walked back to the bedroom. He had to get some sleep or he'd be crap for brains. He pushed the door open to look in at David. He had that huge bed to himself. There was plenty of room for them both. Hell, Trace could lay out spread-eagle and still not touch David, it was so wide. "What the hell's he need a bed this big for, anyway?" he muttered as he walked into the bedroom.
He pulled his shirt and pants off before crawling under the sheets in briefs and a white undershirt. As he settled down to sleep, it occurred to him to wonder how many other men had slept in this bed. But the thought slipped away before he could form any sort of opinion on it.
David attempted to roll to his back and a twinge from his injured shoulder woke him fully. Fuck! The doctor had said six weeks to heal with at least a full week on bed rest. How was he going to get by? Shifting to move the weight cutting off circulation to his leg, he backed into something solid and warm. Glancing over his wrapped shoulder, he saw Trace, facing away from him, sound asleep. David told himself to pull away, but leaning back against the sleep-heavy weight was so comforting. Closing his eyes, he drifted back to sleep.
Trace slept harder than he had expected, and he jerked awake when his cell phone alarm went off under the pillow. He blinked open bleary eyes to see blond hair and for a long moment, and he was totally disoriented. Oh. Right. David. Trace sat up and pulled out the phone, thumbing off the alarm and looking down at the other man. Apparently they'd slid together as they slept, and Trace had rolled over right up against David's back. Well, at least it kept David off his shoulder, Trace thought with a shrug. He yawned and pushed down the covers to crawl out of the bed.
The first thing David noticed upon waking was Trace's absence. He'd woken several times during the night, Trace's warm presence helping him fall back to sleep. He could hear his friend's deep voice talking in the other room, but couldn't make out the words. Swinging his feet to the floor, David stood up slowly, hand gripping the nightstand for balance. Once he was steady, he headed toward the smell of coffee and Trace's deliberately hushed voice.
"Yeah, six weeks. The doctor's office said they'd fax over the FMLA paperwork. Sure. Yeah, he's got ... a friend to stay over. Help him around the house and all. Yeah, I'll tell him. Sure thing." Trace closed his phone with a snap and looked up to see David standing in the doorway. "Hey, handsome. How you feeling?" he asked with a warm smile.
Momentarily stunned by the smile and the endearment, it took a moment for all of Trace's conversation to sink in. Not wanting to assume that Trace was talking about himself, David asked a more mundane question. "Were you just talking to Lloyd?"
"Yes. He said to stay still and get better. If he sees you in the office before the six weeks are up he'll do something nasty and unprintable with your corpse," Trace said with a grin. "Sit down, David. You're not even supposed to be out of bed."
David shivered at the idea of Lloyd doing anything "unprintable." "Dirty old coot! It's just my shoulder. If I have to stay in bed for six weeks, I'll be certifiable."
"You're supposed to be in bed to keep your shoulder stabilized. That's why you're wrapped up like a Thanksgiving turkey, ya goof." Trace stood and went to pour David a cup of coffee, mixing it with cream and sugar the way he knew the other man liked. Turning back to the table, he surveyed David's pale face. "You want something to eat? You should have something in your stomach before you take more painkillers."
"Wonder what I could get for them on the street?" David mused. "I could use a new laptop." Trace laughed. Chuckling, David reached for the mug with his good hand, staring down at the pale tan liquid. Taking a tentative sip, he hummed his approval. Trace did a better job of fixing a good cup of coffee than he did. Watching as his friend opened the refrigerator and started pulling out sandwich fixings, David pondered the care Trace had shown him in the past twenty-four hours.
"David, why do you have Miracle Whip in your fridge when you don't like anything but real mayonnaise?" Trace asked as he set out jars of condiments and packages of cheese. "And tomatoes? Didn't you tell me you don't like tomatoes? Or was it tomato sauce?" His brow furrowed as he set the meat on the island with the bread.
The blond thought back to a reception at the Williston Hills Country Club after the regional tennis tournament. Snatching a small patch of shade under a giant oak tree, David had complained to Trace about the chicken salad being made with Miracle Whip, and apparently he'd remembered. "Don't you ever forget anything, Jackson?" he said, shaking his head. "The mayonnaise is in the door. The Miracle Whip was for---aw, hell---some guy I was seeing for a while. Should've known when he said he'd only eat Miracle Whip that he was a jerk. And I like tomatoes; just not on sandwiches. I slice 'em up on a plate with salt, pepper, and vinegar."
Trace shrugged, grabbed the jar of Miracle Whip and tossed it in the trash before he nabbed the mayo and a tomato. "Just stuck with me, I guess. You don't complain about much, usually," he said, distracted as he pulled a knife from the block and started slicing the tomato on the butcher block.
David laughed as the Miracle Whip went sailing into the trash. "Thanks. I should've had you over the night I threw him out too. You make it look so easy."
Both Trace's brows rose as he started building sandwiches. "That doesn't sound too good, having to throw him out," he observed. "But I would've helped."
"Yeah, I think you would've. I kind of like having a built-in valet, cook, and chauffeur. Think I could afford you?"
"I don't know.... "Trace drew out doubtfully. "Takes a lot to keep me in the lifestyle to which I'm accustomed," he said, winking as he pulled a few plates out of the cabinet.
"So what's for lunch?" David asked, reaching for the silverware and napkins in the caddy on the table and setting two places, one-handed.
"Turkey and Swiss," Trace said, pulling a bottle of vinegar out of the cabinet. He walked over and set it on the table along with the plate of sliced tomatoes, then moved the salt and pepper shakers within David's reach. "Drink?" he asked as he headed to the fridge. It struck him, all of a sudden, how comfortable this was. Of course, they'd hung out on free Saturdays quite a few times, cooking and talking and watching movies or something, so he supposed it wasn't any big change. David's comment about affording him was still amusing.
"What I really want is a beer, but probably not a good idea with the pain meds. Pepsi." Surprisingly hungry, David started eating, and three-quarters of his sandwich was gone before he realized it. Reaching for the tomatoes now that he had room on his plate, he looked at Trace. "So when do you need to leave? Hardin probably sees this as fraternizing with the enemy."
Trace glanced up from his sandwich, waiting to answer until he'd finished chewing. "Unless you've got someone else to call, I'm sticking around. You really need to be in bed, David," he said, concern marking his brow. "If you move that shoulder, even a little, and get it out of alignment, you might have to have surgery to put it back together."
"I'll make you a deal," David bargained. "I'll get back in bed. I'll even let you give me one of the pain pills that will knock me out for a few hours. You can go check in with your editor before he puts out an APB, and then pick us up a stack of movies and Huwan Cho's Chinese on the way back."
"Sounds good to me. Now finish your lunch." Trace grinned and poked the plate of tomatoes closer before sliding out of his chair to pry open one of the prescription bottles. "You want sesame beef or pork lo mein?" he asked, knowing David's usual preference. "I'll get some pot stickers too."
"How about both, and we'll share them?" David suggested, knowing Trace's propensity for snagging food off his plate. Finishing up the last of his sandwich and the tomatoes, he took the pills with the end of his soda. Standing, he shuffled, obviously stalling. He wanted to say something.
Trace rinsed the plates off in the sink and stacked them to wash later. When he turned, he saw David waiting. "Do you need something?" Trace asked in concern. David didn't look like he felt all that well, but he looked better than he had some hours ago. Trace tilted his head to one side, his hair tumbling off his shoulder and the wrinkled shirt he'd slept in.
"Could you.... That is, would you ... erm." David fidgeted. "Can you help me get my jeans off?" he blurted.
Smirking, Trace set his hands on his hips. "You know, I would have figured you for a more suave kind of man," he teased. "What kind of line is that?" he asked as he walked over and handily unfastened the button. "I wouldn't figure guys would be so easy," he said as he pulled down the zipper.
David watched as Trace's long, blunt fingers unfastened his jeans. His breath lodged in his throat, making his head spin, and he could feel his cock, only fractions of an inch from Trace's hand, twitch and swell. Fuck! Forcing air into his lungs, he glanced guiltily up at Trace's face. His friend was grinning at him, relaxed, teasing. Trace had no idea the effect he was having. Thank you, God. "Yeah, well, then you don't know men very well. We're an easy bunch when it comes to getting in our pants."
Trace laughed and slid two fingers through a belt loop on David's hip, tugging gently to get him moving toward the bedroom. "I'll keep that in mind should I ever decide to expand my horizons."
Something flip-flopped in David's gut. Trace teasing about becoming bi-curious was doing nothing to calm his libido. Hopefully the meds would kick in soon and knock him out. After following the brunet down the hall obediently, David pushed his jeans to the floor, walking out of them as he crossed the bedroom, and he crawled immediately into bed. He didn't open his mouth for fear his muddled brain would say something he couldn't take back.
Straightening the sheet out from under the bedspread, Trace pulled it up over David. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over David to snag another pillow, and pushed it up carefully under his friend's injured shoulder. "There you go," he murmured, squishing the pillow a little more before looking at David. "Think you'll be okay? I've got to go out for awhile."
Keeping his eyes closed, David felt Trace's warm breath on his face. "I'll be fine, Dad. Go. Before Hardin fires your sorry ass and you have to move in with me."
Trace chuckled quietly. "All right. I'm going. I've got my cell." He reached over and turned out the lamp before he walked over to the bathroom to turn on the light and pull the door partly closed. He paused at the threshold leading to the hall, looking back at his best friend and sighing softly. At least David would be okay. Seeing him hurt really bothered Trace. Mouth quirking fondly, he left to run his errands.
David shifted on the couch trying to get comfortable. After trying several positions, he had discovered that the corner of the couch seemed to work better than his favorite recliner. Unfortunately, on some days, no position was comfortable. David pressed the play button on the remote. Five days into his forced restriction, the two men had developed a routine. Trace left for a few hours in the morning and a few more in the afternoon to get his work done, making sure he was home to do all the cooking. In the evenings they were working their way through a tall stack of DVDs that Trace had brought back that first night. Almost two weeks later, David could barely remember what it was like without Trace around all the time.
David shifted again, his back aching from holding his shoulder still in the hated sling. "The popcorn almost ready or should I hit pause?" he called out, knowing Trace hated missing the beginning of a movie.
"Pause, please!" Trace said loud enough for David to hear as he blankly watched the microwave tick down the time. His mind was on work tonight, and he doubted he'd actually comprehend the movie although he'd sit and watch it to keep David company. David was trying hard not to be a bear, he could tell. It was kind of funny, really. Blinking when the microwave beeped, he realized he was grinning. Shrugging, he pulled out the hot and steamy bag, tossing it from hand to hand.
It had been different staying over at David's the past couple weeks. They got along really well in close quarters (so far anyway), like they'd been sharing the house for much longer. Trace had decided he liked having the company, even if it was quiet, somewhat-unlike-David company. And it beat going home to an empty apartment. He was a social creature and had always thought David was the same, but now he realized he really didn't know that for sure. Yeah, they got along fine, but there wasn't a circle of friends around the two of them. Trace had his---and in theory David had his. Trace wondered what else David did besides hang out with him. He hadn't had much at all in the way of visitors. Even if he wasn't into casual sex, surely he got in some companionship somehow.
Trace walked over to the fridge for cold drinks, pulling it open. Hmm. Grocery run needed. He added it to his list of things to do tomorrow. He needed to go home and wash clothes and feed the cat (who was really giving him hell over being gone so much), pick up his clothes at the cleaners, conduct a series of interviews at the Performing Arts Center, turn in the latest set of music reviews, make a list of pending restaurant reviews, pick up some more DVDs....
So he was distracted when he walked into the living room, carrying two drinks and the big bowl of popcorn.
David watched in horror as Trace tripped over the coffee table, popcorn and soda flying up into the air in slow-motion like a bad comedy. Without thinking, he reached out to help, cursing as pain knifed through his shoulder, his arm dropping limp to his side. "Fucking hell!" he cried out, dropping back to the couch.
Groaning, Trace rolled over to his back from where he had fallen on his knees. He stared up at the ceiling. "Ouch," he mentioned conversationally.
"Yeah," David agreed, his voice a little shaky. "Who are we going to get to move in and take care of us if both of us get hurt?"
Trace turned his chin to look up at David. "You okay?" he asked, his face lining with concern.
"No, actually it hurts like hell." David swallowed. He was getting tired of always whining. Extending his good hand to Trace, he shifted forward to help him up. "I think we need something stronger, don't you?"
"Yeah, I think so too," Trace said, wincing when David helped haul his butt up. He looked down at the scattered popcorn and was thankful he hadn't opened the soda cans. "Let me get this cleaned up, and I'm going to the liquor store. You'll have to switch Vicodin for Maker's Mark," he told David as he leaned over to pick up the bowl and scoop most of the popcorn off the carpet.
"I'll live, and you don't have to go to the liquor store. I've got a stocked cabinet under the CD player. My poker club doesn't do the cheap stuff." David pointed to a set of doors in the entertainment center. "Unless you really just need to get out for a bit, which I'd totally understand," he added.
Trace completely missed David's last comment as he scooped up popcorn. "Poker club?" he noted as he walked over to the CD player he'd used many times over the years. "I didn't know you played poker. Much less in a club." He crouched down and opened the cabinet. "Holy shit, David! What kind of poker is it, high stakes?" he asked in surprise. The lines of bottles inside weren't even of the not-cheap variety; they were of the damn-expensive variety. "Jesus," he muttered as he started shifting bottles around.
David shrugged the best he could with one shoulder. "It's a group of guys I grew up with. We play pretty high stakes, yeah, but over the years, I'd guess we're all pretty close to even. Jared's on a roll right now, but he needs it. His ex fleeced him last year."
Trace glanced over his shoulder, somehow both happy to know for sure that David had other friends, but a little jealous that he wasn't included. He held out a bottle. "What do you want? I've never even tried most of this stuff. Kentucky bourbon's about as good as it gets on my paycheck."
"Second one from the right with the black label," David instructed. "You should try it. Collecting rare and exclusive single malts has become sort of a hobby among the group. Whenever we travel, we bring something back. The rule is you bring a bottle for everyone in the group. We're playing this weekend. If you're still around.... "David's voice trailed off, not wanting to presume anything, but secretly looking forward to introducing Trace to his friends.
The younger man's brows were up in his hairline. "A bottle for everyone in the group?" he exclaimed as he pulled out the requested bottle. "Dear God. You better hope you win that night." He stood up after grabbing a couple of glasses from another shelf. "Ice?" he asked. Meanwhile, he was thinking about the hinted invitation. He'd vaguely thought about going out, but maybe he could hit a club some other night.
"Ice!" David barked, outraged. "Sacrilege! If you want to water down your scotch, there's a bottle of Jack Daniels from the corner liquor store in there somewhere."
"Geez, okay, okay!" Trace answered, thumping the bottle down on the coffee table in front of David. "Give the uneducated a break. I didn't play cards and drink hard liquor in school. I was poor." He unscrewed the cap and handed it over to the other man. "Hell, I'm still poor. Must be why I'm an arts reporter. I hit all the swank parties on my expense account."
"How do you think we got un-poor?" David laughed. "Every one of us paid our way through college playing poker and pool."
Trace grinned as David poured the glasses. "Somehow I never would have taken you for a shark, David. Isn't that interesting?" he drawled, sitting on the couch next to him and propping his feet up on the table. "I figure I'll be here this weekend unless you're miraculously healed, but I'll be a third wheel. I don't know anything about poker except how to make a full house." His brow furrowed. "Maybe."
Immensely pleased that Trace still planned on being around by the weekend, David grinned. He'd always felt like he valued his privacy too much to share his home, one of the reasons he'd never invited anyone to move in with him even when they'd been pretty serious, but having Trace around was easy, enjoyable, even a little addictive. "There's a deck of cards in the side table drawer. You'll have to shuffle, but I can teach you enough to get by," David offered.
Trace leaned over to dig into the drawer. "All right, but no laughing. I spent much more time flipping quarters and making out than playing cards," he warned. He scooted farther away from David and set the deck in between them, then reached for the glass and took a cautious sip. He immediately moaned and closed his eyes. "Aw, hell. I'm ruined for life."
David's mouth quirked. "Good scotch and a good lover will ruin you every time," he murmured, cutting the deck. His arm was still tingling from his earlier foolish move, but the pain had subsided to a low throb. "We'll start with five-card stud."
The dark-haired man grinned. He happened to agree, at least with the second part of the sentiment. "I'll shuffle and deal. Don't mess with that shoulder," Trace said, wiping his bottom lip with the back of his hand before taking up the cards. "I'm going out on a limb and guessing five cards each," he said drolly. "What are we going to bet with?"
"Popcorn?" David suggested, reaching for what had been salvaged back into the bowl and dumping even piles in front of them. Throwing three pieces in the center, he popped another five into his mouth. "Ante up. That's what you have to bet to play the hand."
Trace followed suit with three pieces and half a handful in his mouth. "Okay. Five-card stud. Heh." He tilted his head, eyes flashing in amusement, and prodded for information. "This group of yours ... enjoys standing stud?"
Chuckling, David fanned his cards, examining them. "Ha, maybe once upon a time. Most are married, until last year when Jared's wife left him, and he's still too torn up to even think about dating. Out to pasture might be a better description."
"Except you," Trace pointed out as he looked at his cards and moved a couple around.
"Yeah, well.... You've seen the hordes lining up at the bedroom door." David picked up four pieces of popcorn and tossed them in the center. "I'm in." He gave Trace a brief outline of the hierarchy of hands and how to bet.
"Actually, now that I think about it, I've noticed, sometimes," Trace pointed out as he frowned at his cards, but threw in some kernels anyway before taking a drink.
David tilted his head, looking at his friend speculatively. "You have?"
Trace looked up from his cards and shrugged a little. "Just sometimes when you were in a better mood than usual, I figured you'd found someone. When you passed on ballgames on the weekend, that sort of thing. Course, I thought it was a woman." Trace grinned. "But same result."
"Hmmm. So I guess that means those mornings that you couldn't sink a putt to save your soul, but grinned anyway, came after marathon sex sessions," David speculated, grinning.
"Could be," Trace said, eyes bright. "I'd already hit a hole in one," he added smugly as he sat back with his glass.
David took a sip of his scotch, choking at the bad pun. "Oh, God, Jackson, that's bad even for you. I call." David scraped in the pot, raising another handful of the salty kernels to his mouth. "We seem to be running out of currency," he commented after Trace dealt the next several hands.
Trace was still chuckling as he emptied his glass and looked down into the bowl. "Well, we could always play strip," he joked as he tossed another handful into his mouth, hair scattering over his shoulders.
Tipping his head back, David downed the rest of his scotch in one gulp, his pulse racing at the thought of Trace naked. Fuck, why not?, he thought, deciding to call the cocky bastard's bluff. "Works for me. We'll skip the ante and just play hands. Whoever loses the hand loses a piece of clothing. That work for you?"
Shrugging, Trace reached for the bottle and tipped a bit more into each glass. "Go for it, Romeo. You're the shark," he teased. He shuffled the cards and dealt, then looked at his hand after another drink. His cheeks were warm, like he'd had three or four good beers already. It felt good to just have fun again. He looked up at David with an honest smile as he waited.
Face blank, David looked at his cards seriously for the first time that night. He hadn't been letting Trace win, but he hadn't been taking his usual risks either---the risks that usually paid off. Flicking the edges of his cards, he folded them facedown on the table. "I'll stay."
Trace looked at his cards. Strip poker with David. What a crazy-ass thing to be doing. He chuckled and shrugged. "I'll stay."
David flipped over his cards, trying not to smile. "King high flush."
Wrinkling his nose, Trace looked at his cards and shook his head. "Two pair." He looked down at his clothes and shrugged, pulling off a black dress sock and dropping it to the floor.
"Oh no," David chided. "Anything that comes in pairs, goes in pairs. Take 'em both off."
Trace rolled his eyes and yanked off the other sock, exposing long toes that sank into the thick carpet. "Picky, are you? Fine. I'll remember that," he said after another sip of scotch. He shuffled and dealt. "I'm in."
David looked at Trace over the top of his cards, eyes narrowed. They'd played five hands since changing the stakes. Trace had lost his socks, his dress shirt, his belt, and his watch. The next thing to go would be the thin white T-shirt that was stretched across his muscular chest. David wasn't sure he could take it. Unfortunately, he'd started off with nothing but jeans and a T-shirt and he'd already lost the T-shirt. "Call."
"I'm in," Trace said, setting down the glass he'd emptied of scotch. "Full house," he crowed.
"Nice. Very nice," David agreed. Pressing his fanned cards to the table with a flourish, he smirked. "Just not quite good enough. Full house, aces over jacks."
Trace's face fell comically. "I thought I had you that time," he pouted, shaking his head so his hair flopped over his shoulders. He tossed down his cards and pulled the T-shirt out of his waistband and over his head, laying it over the back of the couch as he reached for the cards to shuffle again. It didn't occur to him to be uncomfortable; he wore shorts and tanks when he and David played racquetball. He'd even been in clinging, soaked swimming trunks when they'd gone to the water park.
David couldn't drag his eyes from Trace's smooth, tanned chest. It was obvious that he'd stepped up his workout routine. He hadn't been nearly this size last summer. The blond shifted on the couch, reaching for his scotch and finding it empty. He either needed to get drunk really quickly or get out of this room. Not wanting to waste exquisite scotch, he opted for the latter. "I think maybe it's time for bed. The meds mixed with alcohol are getting to me," he stammered, standing.
The younger man blinked and watched David get up. "Okay," he said, sounding a little concerned. "Are you all right?" he asked, seeing the other man's flushed face but easily attributing it to the scotch. After all, he was a bit red-faced himself, and certainly not embarrassed.
"Ah, yeah." David shook his head, still hesitating beside the couch. He needed help with his jeans unless he wanted to sleep in them, but Trace's hands anywhere near the vicinity of his crotch was just not a good idea right now. Making a silent vow to wear sweatpants the next day, he cleared his throat. "Uhm, if you'll just do the button, I think I can handle the rest," he said, motioning toward his jeans. He was half-hard, but hoped Trace just wouldn't notice. The man was straight, after all; he wasn't used to looking for signs of arousal from a man.
"Sure." Trace pushed away the niggle of concern. He'd probably been mother-henning David too much anyway. If the man was tired, he was tired. He reached up and slid his fingers into the waistband on both sides of the button as he pulled it open, and it did occur to him to glance over what he was doing. Some part of his head noticed "Hey, David's got some size on him," but as soon as he released the jeans and sat back, the thought was gone. "I'm gonna chill awhile, then I'll clean up." He smiled lazily. "Thanks for the scotch."
David swallowed, looking down at Trace. The brunet's eyes were closed, his mouth curving up into a satisfied smile. David was nearly overcome with a desire to lean down and kiss that smile. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to turn away from his friend and walk toward the bedroom, adjusting the growing tightness in his jeans once his back was turned. If his right arm had been functioning properly, he'd have locked himself in the bathroom and taken care of the developing problems, but he wasn't at all ambidextrous when it came to self-pleasure. Once safely hidden away in his bedroom, he shuffled his jeans to the floor, cursing softly as his hand brushed the bulge in his boxers, torturing himself by letting his fingers linger and flex over the stiff shaft. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He stretched out on the bed.
Humming slightly as he enjoyed the buzz, Trace lay sprawled on the couch for some time before yawning and deciding he should move before he fell asleep right there. He stretched and yawned again, then knelt down on the floor and cleaned up the rest of the popcorn, secreted away the scotch, and scooped up his clothes. Turning off the light, he wandered down the hall, stopping to drop his clothes in the hamper in the hall closet. With a sigh he pushed the bedroom door open, peering in at the figure under the covers. David had taken to sleeping on his good shoulder, uncomfortable on his back, and the soft light from the bathroom fell on his blond hair.
Trace slid his hand into the bathroom and clicked off the light before walking around to the other side of the wide bed. He slid out of his pants, leaving them puddled on the floor, and crawled into bed in just his briefs. He sighed and stretched out on his belly and pulled the pillow under his chin.
David shifted as the bed dipped under Trace's weight, keeping his breathing even so that his friend would think he was already asleep. He'd been lying in the dark trying to make sense of his conflicting thoughts. He and Trace had been friends for years without the hint of something more and now suddenly he was assailed by erotic thoughts of stripping the handsome brunet bare and licking every inch of his body. Biting his lip, he moved his leg slightly forward to hide the evidence of his wayward thoughts.
Turning his cheek against the pillow as he drowsed, Trace curled his body toward David unconsciously, drawn by the heat of the other man's body. After a few long minutes, he shifted further in David's direction as he slept. Tensing as Trace threw an arm over him some minutes later, David bit back a yelp of surprise. Oh, great. Feed Trace decent scotch and the man became a cuddler. David attempted to inch sideways to put more space between them and the arm resting at his waist tightened, pulling him back into the curve of Trace's body. With a resigned sigh, David attempted to relax. It felt good to be held, and he was asleep before he knew it.
It was late the next morning before Trace stirred, shifting slightly against the warm body he held close. It didn't occur to him to be confused. He hummed slightly, nuzzling the neck in front of him before stilling again, drifting along in a light sleep.
David was having the best dream. Trace had him pinned facedown to the bed, his face buried in the fleshy crook between David's shoulder and neck as the brunet's muscular body arched, his cock sliding slowly in and out of him in a steady, rhythmic glide. David pushed his ass back onto his lover, mumbling a quiet plea for more into the sheet-covered padding.
His own dream one of pleasant satiation and rest, Trace purred softly and pulled the warm body closer, pressing his lips lightly to the side of the neck. He wasn't conscious enough to be awake.
"Mmm. Yes.... Trace," David moaned, rocking his ass against the hard shaft that pierced him in his dreams.
Sighing, Trace cuddled closer, inhaling deeply. His dream was warm and pleasant, having someone he really cared about so close, though he was too far asleep, even in his dream world, to open his eyes and look at his lover. His hand curled over the body's waist, flattened, and rubbed ever so slightly over warm skin.
David's body rolled to give his lover better access---and glanced his broken shoulder against Trace's arm. With a jolt of sharp pain, he was wide awake. Horrified, he practically jumped away from Trace's sleep-warm body, jarring his shoulder again, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. Fuck! Panting, he slung his legs over the side of the bed and hurried into the safety of the bathroom. Closing the lid of the toilet, he sat, cradling his head in his hand. Having Trace playing nursemaid was both the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
The sudden shift of the bed and the body confused Trace, and it took him a long moment to figure out what was dream and what was real as he pushed himself to sit up and open his eyes. He blinked, seeing immediately that David was gone, and that he was in the middle of the bed instead of his side. A groggy glance told him the bathroom door was shut, so he turned over, scooted to the cooler sheets on the far side and curled back up around the pillow. He hoped he could have that dream again. It was warm and comfortable and smelled familiar, a smell that he instinctively recognized as belonging to someone dear to him. But he drifted back off before his brain could connect the scent with a name. Trace sighed happily as he sank back into the dream, pleased by the arms that curled around him, the scent filling him and making him feel like he was where he was supposed to be.
Calming the pounding in the lower part of his body with several deep controlled breaths, David turned and started the shower. Pushing his boxers to the floor, he stepped into the stinging spray---sling and all. They could throw it in the dryer later. Letting the water sluice over his body, he couldn't seem to stop his hand from curling around his still half-hard shaft. He groaned, squeezing, but still not fully committed to bringing himself off. There was just something about jacking off to thoughts of Trace fucking him that pushed them across an invisible line he wasn't sure he was ready to cross. Squeezing his eyes shut, he added a palmful of shampoo to his hair, working it into a lather. As he rinsed the suds from his hair, his hand followed them down over his chest, his fingers running into the hair curled around his still-throbbing cock. Fingers still slick curled around the shaft and stroked, the awkwardness of using his left hand eased by the soap. His forehead came to rest against the cold tile as his hand shuttled up and down, images from his dream pushing him over the edge. He gasped, whimpering as his cock pulsed in his hand. "Trace," he whispered.
David's body shook with the force of his orgasm, and he stood braced against the shower wall until the water ran cold. Twisting off the water, he stepped out of the tub, his muscles feeling like wet noodles. Drying himself as best he could, he gingerly slipped the sling off, letting it fall onto the floor with a splat. Damn. He'd been in such a hurry to hide out in the bathroom that he hadn't brought in any clean clothes. Peering around the bathroom door, he verified that Trace was still asleep before tiptoeing to the dresser and pulling open a drawer to find a clean pair of boxers and sweatpants.
The sounds of the drawers pulling open shook Trace from sleep, and he turned his head, lifting up a bit and mumbling, "David? Izzat you?"
Jumping guiltily, David looked back over his shoulder, sure Trace would be able to read everything in his face. Clutching the folded clothes to his crotch, he walked back toward the bathroom, keeping his back to the bed. "Ah yeah, just grabbing clean clothes. Go back to sleep."
"'kay," Trace said sleepily, shifting to bury his face back in the pillow, just one drowsy eye staying open and training on him for a moment before drooping closed. Safely hidden behind the bathroom door, David looked back at the dozing man. How was it possible for one man to be so erotically tempting and cuddly cute at the exact same time? With a sigh, he quietly shut the door.
About two hours or so later Trace walked out to the kitchen wearing his suit pants and dark socks, but just an undershirt. His damp hair was pulled back into a neat tail at the nape of his neck. He opened the fridge and pulled out the juice, pouring himself a glass. "Morning," he mumbled, still sleepy and grumpy despite his shower. He was just not a morning person.
David stared at the jug sitting next to Trace on the counter. He never kept orange juice in the house. He didn't like it. Of course with Trace doing all of the shopping, the contents of the refrigerator were a mix of both of their favorites. It was both comforting and alarming at the same time. "Morning, sleepyhead," David teased, hitting save on his laptop. His writing had slowed down considerably with only one hand, but at least he had the kind of job he could do from home. And missing Monday morning editorial meetings was not necessarily a bad thing.
Setting the bottle of juice back in the fridge, Trace pulled English muffins out of the cabinet and popped one into the toaster. "Want a muffin?" he asked sleepily as he got butter and a knife out.
"I had one of those premixed omelets when I got up," David said, forcing his eyes back to his computer screen. "So into the office today?"
Trace dropped the muffin onto a paper towel and fixed it up as he muttered to himself before answering "Yeah." He brought the glass and the muffin to the table with a yawn, sitting down across from David. "Gotta work on the Readers' Choice restaurant reviews. I won't be home for dinner." He took a bite of muffin and chewed, head propped in one hand, eyes closed again.
"I imagine I'll survive. Where are you reviewing tonight?" The blond got up and retrieved the strawberry jam from the refrigerator, snagging a spoon out of the drainer. Setting it down next to his sleepy friend, he realized that he knew Trace's preferences almost as well as Trace knew his.
Trace heard the clink of the jar hit the table and opened his eyes, brightening at seeing the jam. He pushed the muffin halves over for some. "Kabuki uptown, Raffi's on Highstreet, and Delectable, the new dessert place. I'm gonna be a whale when I get done. I really ought to make them spread these appointments out more."
"It's rough, but someone has to sacrifice and consume all those gourmet meals for free," David answered, spreading a heavy layer of jam on both muffins.
Trace sighed. "Yeah, and I'll have to spend an extra couple of hours at the gym to offset the calories. Thank God they only do this every other year."
Images of Trace half-naked and sweaty swam through David's mind. Pushing them firmly aside, he got up to pour himself another cup of coffee, reaching for the sugar with his right hand out of habit and yelping.
"David," Trace whined, "have some respect for the half-asleep, would you?" He shifted to look over at the other man and then frowned. "Where's your sling?" he asked suspiciously.
"Ahh, well..." the blond stammered nervously. "I sort of got it wet in the shower. It's still in the bathroom. Right after breakfast I was going to put it in the washer."
Trace raised an eyebrow and squinted his eyes in disapproval. "Sit your ass down, mister," he ordered as he stood up and headed back to the bathroom. Looking around, he found it in the floor against the cabinet; he'd missed it when he'd taken his shower. He wrung it out best he could and took it straight to the dryer before heading back to the kitchen to cross his arms and shake his head at David.
David bit his tongue to keep from defending himself. He was a grown man, for fuck's sake. If he wanted to go one night without the blasted sling, he could do it. Purposefully avoiding Trace's gaze, he couldn't tell if the brunet was angry or disappointed, but either way, he felt like he had to explain. "I tried to keep it dry, but the soap slipped and.... "He couldn't very well tell Trace why the soap slipped or what he was doing at the time. Fuck, he was an awful liar. "I tried, honestly."
Sighing, Trace walked over. "Why didn't you wake me?" he asked in concern. "I would have helped. That's why I'm here, David. I'm sorry if it feels like I'm mother-henning you. I'm just worried."
Running his fingers through his hair, David massaged the knotted muscles in his neck. "I just feel so blasted useless. I can't even do up my own jeans. I appreciate everything you are doing. I guess I'm just feeling too dependent."
"All right," Trace said soothingly, moving to lightly pull David's hand away and replace it with his own fingers, rubbing at the twisted tendons. "It's only been a couple weeks, and you can't just start using that shoulder again so fast. But we'll work on getting you better, okay?"
"Okay. Hmmm," David hummed. "That feels really good." David swayed closer, his forehead coming to rest on Trace's shoulder as the strong arms wrapped around him to massage his neck. It was true that he was tired of being weak---tired of being limited---but he wasn't tired of Trace being around. In fact, he was getting sort of used to it.
"Your neck's a mess, probably from favoring your shoulder," Trace murmured. "And not wearing your sling won't help, either," he poked gently. "I know you're sick to death of it. I don't remember you ever being laid up this long before."
"Guess it just comes from getting old," David laughed, relaxing even further into the incredible touch. "When I was younger I fell a lot harder than that, stumbling around drunk, and never got hurt once."
"I told you before; you're not old," Trace disagreed, kneading the softening muscles with his fingers, looking down at David with a soft smile. How David could be so self-deprecating and self-confident at the same time was a mystery to him.
David sighed. "I think it was the birthday."
"This past birthday?" Trace asked, frowning. He'd taken David to a weekend series of baseball games, and they'd had a great time. Was the rest of it not so great?
"None of my other birthdays have bothered me, but forty-five...? That was the year my dad had his heart attack. He lived another ten years, but he was never the same."
Trace was quiet for a long moment. "That's not going to happen to you. Not as long as I'm around," he said seriously. "I'll make you exercise with me and eat better." He sounded determined. "Gotta take care of my best buddy, right?"
"Yeah." David grinned. "In the meantime, you've got to get to work, and I need to placate Lloyd with something printable. I promise: I'll be good and wear my sling," he said, backing away from the soothing touch reluctantly.
Stepping back, Trace smiled down at him. "All right. I hope to be home by ten tonight, although I'll need a forklift to move." He turned and walked out, back to the office where he'd taken to hanging his dry cleaning every few days. David had even cleaned some shelves off for him.
David refilled his coffee cup and sat back down at the table to wait for his sling to dry. Pulling his laptop closer, he stared at the screen, trying to recapture where he'd been going with his column.
It was later than he'd intended when Trace dragged himself up to the house, leather case hanging from one shoulder, jacket slung over it, a small box in the other hand. He juggled it all to lift his keys and get the back door open, entering the kitchen quietly just in case David was asleep. The kitchen was dark, so he set his stuff on the table and put the box in the fridge before moving to stand in the doorway to the living room. David was sitting on the couch with his laptop. "Hey," Trace greeted, leaning against the door frame.
David looked over his shoulder. Trace's hair had come loose around his face, his shirt was open with a triangle of his white undershirt showing, the tie hanging loose from the collar. "Oh, hey," he answered in a slightly dazed voice that showed he'd been deeply engrossed in something. "How was dinner?" Rubbing his eyes, he looked up at the clock. "Damn, it's late."
"Filling. Very, very filling," Trace answered, wrapping his arms around his midsection. "I brought you a piece of the richest cheesecake in creation," he added, knowing it was one of David's favorite treats.
"Really?" David asked, perking up. He'd been half-asleep, telling himself that he wasn't waiting up for Trace, but at the mention of cheesecake, he was wide awake. "Guess I have to make coffee, then. Can't have a good cheesecake without French roast."
Trace made a face. "No more food or liquids of any kind for at least twelve hours," he muttered, turning back into the kitchen and going to start the coffeemaker.
David looked at the retreating back and grinned. It was the little things that Trace did that made him so special. Not that upsetting his whole life and moving in here to babysit him was a little thing, but David remembered lots of times that Trace had brought him a bottle of wine or something local back from a business trip or called him when they'd both been busy and hadn't seen each other for a few weeks. Trace was just a great friend. And now cheesecake!
"Come in here and talk to me," Trace called out as he measured the coffee. "I spent all night being stared at by wait staff."
"You got it." David strolled in and opened the refrigerator to retrieve the box. Opening a cupboard, he pulled out a dessert plate. Looking up, he caught Trace watching him strangely. "What? A good dessert deserves first-class treatment, not to be shoveled out of a Styrofoam container."
Trace snorted. "I ate off fine Limoges china tonight, and believe me, sometimes it doesn't help." He shook his head, hitting the button to start the coffee brewing before turning and flopping in a chair at the table. "Oh God. Kill me now."
"You want some antacid?"
"I want a stomach pump," Trace muttered, head tilted against the back of the chair. "The food was pretty good, really. There was just way too much of it."
"You don't have to eat all of it, you know. Most critics just sample a few mouthfuls of each dish." David checked the coffeemaker, the cheesecake sitting in front of him so tempting. It occurred to him that he hadn't really eaten dinner. No wonder he was starved.
"Oh believe me, that's all I do. Thing is with these fancy restaurants, they bring you course after course after course---and even two or three bites adds up." Trace shifted on the chair. "I think I'll just explode right here. It'll be easier to clean the tile than the carpet."
"I'd rather you not explode anywhere in my house if it's just the same with you. Finally," David sighed as the light on the coffeemaker lit up.
Trace looked over, amused. "I swear, I think you love that coffee more than the cheesecake."
David grinned. "It's a mutual love affair. Each makes the other better." Slipping the first forkful of cheesecake into his mouth, he closed his lips around the fork, his eyes closing in orgasmic bliss. "Mmmmm...."
Trace chuckled. "See, I know how to turn you into a big pussy cat," he said with a smile. "Who else knows that?"
"Might be better than sex," David murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. "Will you marry me?"
"I don't know. You're awful difficult to live with," Trace said with a wink. "Although I like your house a hell of a lot more than my apartment." He toed out of his shoes, leaving them under the table, and got up to grab a bottle of water.
"Well, you know high-maintenance partners are the best lovers," David teased back.
Trace turned around and leered at him. "High maintenance, are we?" he drawled. "My, my, really opening up now, aren't we? I'll have you know I have never had any complaints."
David chuckled, a low seductive sound prompted by the late hour and really good cheesecake. "If we were playing poker, I'd call."
The younger man grinned, amazed at the sex just dripping from David's voice. It was like nothing he'd ever heard from his friend, and he surprised himself by shivering. "Good thing we're not, 'cause I suck at bluffing," he said, screwing the top off the water bottle and taking a drink before sighing gustily. "No food until three p.m. tomorrow, I swear to God," he muttered.
"Poor baby," the blond purred. "How many restaurants do you have tomorrow night?"
Trace covered his face with both hands and moaned. "Three more." He made a mocking sobbing noise, only to look up and not see any sympathy from David. In fact, David was going at the cheesecake like a starving man. "David, I know you love cheesecake, but you eat that much sugar that fast, you'll be the one who's sick."
"I might have forgotten to eat dinner," David admitted, putting the fork down long enough to take a sip of coffee.
Trace's eyes narrowed. "Might have forgotten? I'm betting you remember one way or the other."
David's eyes shifted guiltily to the floor. "I ate lunch," he justified.
Glancing at the clock, Trace closed his eyes for a moment and visibly restrained himself. He leaned back on the counter, hands clenching on the edge as he swallowed the urge to get angry, and made a decision. "Okay. Well, you just solved one of my problems," he said, voice deceptively casual despite the unhappy bent to his shoulders.
Confused, David stared at Trace, brows drawn together. "Huh?"
Trace pushed himself away from the counter and walked over to David, setting one hand on the table and one on the back of David's chair. He leaned down close to meet David's eyes. "I'm taking you out and wining and dining you tomorrow night."
A shiver traveled up David's spine, even though he knew that Trace didn't mean it the way it sounded. An unexpected pang that Trace wasn't actually asking him out shot through David's gut. To regain his balance, he teased back. "Sure you can afford me?"
"Oh, tomorrow night, money is no object. Caviar and champagne, filet mignon and crusted Australian bass, lobster bisque and duck salad, scallop crostinis, French vanilla crème brûlée.... Whatever your little heart desires, you can have," Trace said, his voice smooth and dark, like velvet. David shivered again. Cheesecake and a seductive Trace were more than his system could handle. Unable to tear his eyes away from the chocolate gaze, he swallowed audibly, nodding because he didn't trust his voice. "Oh yeah, baby," Trace crooned, leaning closer. "You are going to all three restaurants with me. I'll make sure you eat. And you'll love every ... single ... succulent ... moment of it."
"Enough, Trace. I'll go. Now go sit down like a good little straight boy before I jump you," David warned, his tone teasing.
Trace grinned and leaned just enough to quickly kiss the very tip of David's nose before standing up and moving back to the other side of the table, water bottle in hand. He sat down, smug, looking very pleased with himself. And he was: This meant that not only would he have David's wonderful company instead of nervous waiters, but he'd only have to eat half as much food! Why hadn't he thought of this before?
David looked at himself in the mirror. His black linen pants were drawn up over his hips but not fastened. He'd gotten his T-shirt on and his shirt over his shoulders. Of course, the buttons weren't done. Well, he was as ready as he was going to get. Taking a deep breath, he called, "Oh, Trace, I need my valet!" He heard a bark of laughter from the bathroom, and, rolling his eyes, David fixed his glare on the bathroom door so that Trace would feel its full impact when he walked through. The glare and his breathing faltered when Trace appeared. Fuck! Trace was good-looking at his worst, but dressed to kill, he was breathtaking. Unable to form a coherent comment, he just stared as his friend walked toward him.
Trace had broken out more than the run-of-the-mill everyday dress clothes, choosing a silvery-gray suit of lighter material that emphasized the long, lean lines of his body, and his hair was loose and on his shoulders, styled in that popular windblown look, held into place with judicious use of mousse. He'd even shaved.
Looking over at David, Trace raised a brow. "Oh master, I heed thy summons," he said with a chuckle. David's glare didn't faze Trace one bit; he'd seen it before and would see it again, he was sure. He sauntered over and stopped in front of him, starting to button his shirt from the top down, smoothing the fine white fabric as he went. It was hard to miss the lightly muscled body underneath, and Trace was quietly appreciative. He knew it took a lot to stay in shape. He tucked the shirttails into David's slacks, hands coasting over his hips to make sure the material didn't bunch. Trace looked up as he pulled the pants up slightly and folded the placket together, and he noticed the odd look on David's face. "What's up? You look like you forgot something," he said as he buttoned the trousers.
Yeah, my brain, the blond thought. What had possessed him to think that Trace moving in with him while he recovered was a good idea? Of course, Trace hadn't really given him a choice in the matter. The corners of his mouth drew up slightly at how pigheaded his friend could be. David bit his cheek, willing his body to behave as the brunet's hands skimmed his body. He really needed to get laid, but couldn't see having a conversation with Trace about needing a night alone when Trace had done so much for him. He was quite sure, though, that his thoroughly straight friend wasn't going to want to do what he really needed at the moment. Shaking his head, he looked down and watched as Trace's long, blunt fingers buttoned, zipped, and buckled him up.
"There you go," Trace said as he slid his hand along David's belly to make sure the shirt lay down properly. That flat belly was another sign of how much David worked out. He lifted his hands to fasten the top button under his chin. "Wearing a tie?" he asked. His own was the same silver as the suit, and it caught the light when he moved.
"Yeah. If you're gonna button me up like a priest, I'd better."
Trace chuckled. "You can go without one; no one's going to say anything. Will look nicer if your gossip columnist catches us, though. Did you know Matt's been haunting the high-class places for Katherine's celebrity column? He got a shot of me last night talking with the deputy mayor and her husband. I hope he doesn't use it or at least crops me out. I probably looked like shit after twelve hours on the job."
"Fine. Just for you, I'll try and look my best," David teased, looking up at Trace coyly through lowered eyelashes.
With an appraising look, Trace stepped back and deliberately looked David up and down. There was no doubt, David was a fine-looking man. Trace supposed he had no problem finding companionship---male or female---when he went out. "Well, I'm no expert---about men, anyway---but you look incredible to me," he admitted as he tilted his head and started to fix the tie David laid over his shoulder. Eyes sparkling playfully, he stepped to one side to peek at David's ass.
The comment was the ice water David needed to get his rampaging libido under control. Trace wasn't gay, and David hadn't actively lusted after straight men in almost two decades---too frustrating. "Thank you," he said, slipping the sling over the top of his suit coat and fiddling with the strap to lengthen it to accommodate the extra bulk. "I don't suppose you'd let me out without the leash just for one night?"
Stepping back to let David move, Trace slid one hand into a pocket. David had stiffened a bit, and Trace realized maybe he'd teased a little too much. He'd have to pick it apart in his head later to try to figure it out. As for the sling.... "I won't give you grief about it, not tonight. I'm just afraid you'll be hurting if you don't wear it," he said quietly.
David smiled at the thought of a few hours without the frustrating contraption. "How about a compromise? I'll take it, leave it in the car, and if I get to hurting, I'll even let you go get it for me."
Trace chuckled. "I suppose I can live with that." He shrugged into his jacket and glanced at his watch. "Ready to go? We've got half an hour to get to the restaurant."
Pulling aside his suit coat to slip his wallet into his back pocket, and his money clip and a small tin of mints into his front pocket, David motioned to the door. "All set. After you."
David gritted his teeth. The hostess at San Angelo hadn't stopped flirting, fawning and gushing over Trace since they walked in the door. She currently had her hand wrapped around the restaurant critic's bicep, squeezing like she was testing the condition of the body beneath the expensive suit. Judging by her smile, she liked what she'd found. The blond was beginning to wonder if sex with the staff was included in the overall rating of a restaurant at the Sun-Herald. He was so caught up in his inner grumbling that he reached to pull out the heavy mahogany chair with his right hand without thinking, yanking it back from the table and unable to completely stifle the cry of pain.
Trace's head shot around, and he was at David's side in an instant, leaving the hostess gaping. "David, what did you do?" he asked, looking at how the other man was cradling his arm to prop up his shoulder.
David stared at a fixed point, trying to keep his balance as the room swayed. "Just stupidity. How 'bout being a gentleman and pulling out my chair for me? I don't seem to be capable of it at the moment."
Concerned, Trace did so, totally unaware of the hostess and wait staff staring. Once David was seated, he asked, "Okay?" and when David nodded, he pushed the chair in some. "You can probably prop your elbow on that armrest," he suggested, moving to the chair across the two-person table.
David watched the befuddled young woman hover with two heavy leather-bound menus and an even bigger wine list, backed up by two nervous-looking servers. "I'm fine. Just give me a sec," he whispered. "Do something about her hovering, will you? I feel like a wounded gazelle being eyed by a leopard."
Trace accepted the menus and the wine list and made a blatant shooing motion at the wait staff. Scared to death of damaging his opinion, they all vamoosed. He set down the menus on the table, one in front of each of them, and looked at David with concern.
"Quit staring." David glanced up from the menu that lay open in front of him. "I just wasn't thinking and grabbed the chair. Give me a second and I'll be fine. Now, what do I need to order or do you want to order for me too? After pulling out my chair, we could really get some rumors flying." David glanced up coyly and fluttered his eyelashes.
Trace blinked and smiled, and it transformed his whole face. "Order whatever you like. I'll get different things so we have a selection." He toyed with the wine list. "Rumors, huh? About you or about me?" he asked, lips twitching. "I'm sure it won't be long before someone recognizes you and wonders why we're out together."
"Yeah. Lloyd'll give me hell. As for rumors, it is far more fun to speculate about a couple than an individual, and I was only half-joking. If it'll bother you, we need to make sure we present the proper 'friends out on the town comparing conquests' front." David made his decision, closed his menu, and laid it to the side. "I'm having seafood."
Trace's voice was serious and low after watching David's face. "It doesn't bother me, David. Not at all. I'm out with a hell of a good-looking man. Why should I complain?" Trace closed his menu. "I'll have the mixed grill."
"You might want to reconsider. Matt just walked in the door with that young freelance photographer who's been hot lately. Being paired with a man, no matter how good-looking, can put a serious crimp in your ability to attract women," David warned, opening the wine list and doing his best to ignore the two men being seated three tables away. It wasn't that he had anything against Matt. They were actually good friends. The man took beautiful pictures, but he did have a tendency to take everything to an extreme. And if he was filling in as a photographer for Katherine's gossip column then he'd be looking for good gossip.
"I'm not worried about it, David," Trace said. "How about this? If it gets to be a problem, I'll call up a couple or three gorgeous girlfriends of mine and go to some high-profile event, okay? Aren't you concerned about your own reputation?"
David shrugged. "Let's just say that Matt is aware of my orientation, and I trust him not to do anything to hurt me."
Trace nodded slowly. "So that's why there's a concern that he might put something out there about me. Especially since I work at a rival paper?"
"I can promise he'll be honest, but he only contributes the pictures. Katherine's the one that will add the words. I personally think the rivalry is crap. This area is by far big enough to support two dailies, but.... "David shrugged again. "You know how it is. I also know that Katherine bid on you and lost at the hospital benefit last year. She didn't lose gracefully."
"Mmmm, I forgot about that," Trace admitted, and they were interrupted as the waiter arrived to take their orders, obviously having been told to be ultra attentive and polite. Finally he left as another server arrived with before-dinner drinks and ice water. Once they were left in relative peace, Trace picked up the discussion again. "Why didn't she win? I know Miranda doesn't make as much money as she does," he said, speaking of the well-known event planner in town who had won the bid for him.
David smirked. "Well, let's say she had been a cocky bitch all week about wanting you, and a few of us might have decided to distract her at a key moment."
Trace's brows rose in disbelief. "You did what? Most of the crew from your paper was hootin' and hollerin' while I was up there, trying to embarrass me. Who helped you?"
"Well, actually, Matt and the new kid from sports. Chad. We were pretty drunk and feeling devious." David grinned, his eyes turning soft and crinkling around the corners at the memory. It had been a fun night. Trace's hadn't been the only auction they'd influenced. They'd given Keri Carter from copy a thousand dollars to bid on Bill Winchell, and those two were still dating.
Shaking his head, Trace just smiled at the man across the table. "You are a true friend. I shudder to think what Katherine would have wanted."
"Ha!" David barked. "I can tell you exactly what she would have wanted. Her business is rumors, and she'd heard exactly how good you are with that tongue of yours."
Trace's eyes bulged, and he leaned back, jaw dropping. "You're joking!"
David's laughter got worse with the expression on Trace's face, tears filling his eyes. "No."
Just then the couple was interrupted by the appearance of the photographer, his companion looking over from their table. "David, you should wait for dinner to arrive before hitting the really hard spirits," Matt teased, smiling indulgently at the reporter trying valiantly to quit laughing.
"Sorry," David gasped, his shoulders still shaking. He brushed the tears away from his eyes. "I just.... Well, Trace.... "He broke into a new gale of laughter, the image of Katherine's face on a spider's body with Trace caught firmly in her web floating through his mind.
Matt turned to Trace and extended his hand. "I guess I'll try talking to you. He doesn't seem too coherent. If part of your game plan is getting him drunk, I'd say you are well on your way," he added good-humoredly.
Trace shook Matt's hand, still aghast. "I might have to cut him off if he keeps sharing things I certainly don't want to hear. Dear God. I had no idea Katherine would hear about something like that!"
Understanding bloomed on the photographer's face. "Oh." He snickered, purposefully not looking at David to keep it under control. "Yeah, you should never underestimate Katherine." Finally turning to David, he said, "What have you been telling him?"
Hiccupping, David tried to pull himself together again. "Sorry. He just asked about Katherine, and, God! Do you remember the look on her face when she lost?" The laughter started again.
Matt smiled down at the blond indulgently. "Yeah, but you're sharing secrets with the enemy." He cuffed David's shoulder lightly, causing him to wince.
"Be careful." Trace warned. "David ... hurt his shoulder," he said, not sure what Lloyd might have told the other employees.
The photographer's smile faded with concern. "I'm sorry," he said, his serious tone turning teasing as he added, "I've warned you about wrenching around when you're handcuffed to the bed."
"Fucker!" David came back, eyes crinkling with laughter as he struck out at Matt with his good arm. "Go back to your boy toy and leave us men alone."
Trace covered his mouth one-handed with his elbow on the table, clearly stifling a spate of laughter. He thought about admitting that he'd thought about that---to keep David in the damn bed to give his shoulder a rest---but he was sure that would definitely come out sounding wrong. And Matt had a boy toy? Trace glanced over at the younger man who looked like he should be a model, then back to Matt, raising a brow in question.
Matt leaned low, whispering something in David's ear that made his eyes lower and his cheeks bloom with color. With a careful pat of David's back, he moved away, glancing back at their table once speculatively.
"Oh, I'm never going to hear the end of this one," David predicted, lifting his glass of water to his lips.
Eyebrow still raised, Trace sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Do I even want to know?" he asked as he lifted his drink.
"Probably not," David confirmed. "Matt and I go way back, and not all of the history would be suitable for polite conversation."
Trace snorted. "And my tongue is polite conversation?" He rolled his eyes as the waiter appeared with fresh salads and their appetizer.
David lifted his fork, still awkward with his left hand, but uncomfortable supporting his right for long periods of time. "Let's just say this history includes some moments of an intimate nature that would include body parts you usually don't deal with outside of your own shower." As soon as he said the words, images of Trace naked and soapy ran through his mind, taking the edge off his physical hunger, but raising a hunger of an entirely different kind.
"Gotcha," Trace said. He picked up a crostini topped with tomato and cheese and tilted his head to pop the bite-size morsel in his mouth. "Mmmm. That gets an A," he said while chewing happily.
"You are entirely too easy to please for a restaurant critic." David chuckled.
"I'll have you know, my average review is two and a quarter stars out of four," Trace said archly, not seeing the manager who appeared behind him blanch and scurry away.
David snorted, shaking his head. "You just gave the manager nightmares."
Trace raised an eyebrow and turned to glance over his shoulder, but there was no one there. He just shrugged. "Maybe they'll triple check the food, then." He smiled, leaning back and lifting his drink. "To a wonderful first dinner," he toasted.
Something warm settled in David's belly that had nothing to do with the wine. Raising his glass, he touched Trace's with a delicate clink. "If I forget to tell you later---thank you." The blond's blue eyes stayed locked with Trace's as he drank slowly, his tongue peeking out to touch the edge of the glass before pulling the wine into his mouth. A slow tingle flowed through Trace as he watched David take a sip of wine, and he blinked several times, trying to recognize it before it was gone. Was all the teasing making him think about things---about David---in a way he normally wouldn't? David's eyes---had he ever noticed they were so blue and flecked with gold? He swallowed his wine and dropped his eyes, feeling a tinge of heat in his cheeks.
David reacted to the shy drop of Trace's eyes with a surge of desire. If he'd been out on a date, he'd be sure that his companion was interested in him and probably thinking naughty thoughts. With Trace, he didn't know what to think. Their friendship was deepening in a way that felt different from anything he'd experienced before. Trace took a couple of bites of the salad and pushed it aside, instead nipping another crostini from the plate. He didn't know why he felt nervous all of a sudden. This was David, his best friend of a few years now. Finally, it occurred to him. "You're welcome," he said quietly, glancing up at the other man, finding that he was still struck by how the light from the small flickering candle transformed David's face.
Snagging the last of the crostinis from the plate, David moaned as the sharp taste of plum tomatoes and garlic exploded in his mouth. "God, tell me that when I'm cursing you later. Do we have Alka-Seltzer at home?"
Chuckling, Trace nodded. "Yeah, I had some last night." He relaxed again with the easy comment, and it was easy to smile now. "So you think you might be able to suffer through the rest of the night?"
His reply stalled by the arrival of a tray of steaming, aromatic food, David shot an amused glance at Trace, easily reading his friend's mind as the manager personally served their dinner. As Trace dismissed the fawning man gracefully, David rolled his eyes. "It'll be rough, but I think I'll manage."
Trace drove along the winding lane that led back into town from the exclusive French restaurant they'd visited last. This time, he was pleasantly full, not ill like the previous night, because luckily, he'd had someone to share it with. He glanced over to David. "So what'd you think about that one?" They had dined outside on a terrace, the table furnished with china, silver, crystal and linen---definitely a romantic atmosphere---and the food had been unbelievable. To his experienced tastes, even. Totally worth his ultra-rare four-star designation.
David's head rolled lethargically to the side to see Trace, long hair blowing in the wind. Keeping the top down had been an excellent idea, even if they'd had to spike the heat to stay comfortable. "Definitely a 'sure thing' kind of place."
A huge grin split Trace's face, and he tried to bite his tongue. But it was so easy. "You telling me you're a sure thing?"
"If I thought you had any inclination, I'd let you fuck me through the mattress," David murmured in a sleepy, sated voice, his eyes already closed, the wind whipping his hair around his face as he drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rich food, good wine, and steady vibration of the convertible.
Trace froze with both hands on the steering wheel, looking straight out at the road. But he wasn't seeing it. His mind exploded with visions of what David had just said, and he had to swallow hard and blink to make sure he was watching where he was driving. What the...? He chanced a look in David's direction to see that his friend looked to be asleep. Trace let out a long, shaky breath. The evening had been rife with a tension Trace had never before felt with David. He shifted in the seat uncomfortably, and a few moments after the fact he realized why. He was aroused. Terribly, undeniably aroused by the images David's words had evoked. He dragged a hand through his hair, panic welling in his throat. His hand moved to cover his mouth as he choked on a scared laugh. What the hell?
By time, the grace of God, and sheer willpower, Trace calmed just as he pulled into David's driveway. The other man was exhausted and probably more than a little drunk---and on painkillers to boot. Drugs made you do and say crazy things, right? And the ideas had already been in his own head after that meet-up with Matt. Perhaps David was just free-associating, but ... he'd made it clear he knew who he was talking to. David knew he was straight and happy that way. Trace sighed and open the car door, pushing one leg out and leaning back in his seat to look up at the sky.
Looked like he had quite a bit of thinking to do.
Fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel, after a bit Trace shifted to spend quite a few minutes just looking at David, studying him like he'd never thought to before. Admittedly, he hadn't been kidding when he made his claim about being out with a hell of a good-looking man. He had no problem saying which men looked better than others, in his opinion. The more he thought about it, he wondered how much his opinions had been formed with David as the benchmark.
Finally he reached over, intending to shake David's arm, but instead his fingers moved to the soft blond hair, and he petted it on purpose, just to feel---not to make a point, not to give comfort, but just because he wanted to. After a few heartbeats he drew back, blinking in confusion. David wouldn't appreciate that, would he? Still curious, Trace reached out again to comb his fingers through the wind-ruffled hair, wondering if it would wake the other man.
David's head turned on the headrest, pressing into the loving touch without waking. His lashes fluttered momentarily before he settled back into a deep sleep, his lips parting as his jaw relaxed. Trace leaned sideways against his seat, head pillowed against the leather as he gazed across the two feet to his hand sliding through golden hair, and he smiled softly as David relaxed. To be so trusted, it was something special, he knew. He sighed, carefully pulling his hand away and touching his friend's lower arm. "David," he said quietly. "We're home."
Someone is stroking my hair was the first thought David had as his mind emerged from sleep. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed such a simple, intimate touch. He was loath to open his eyes and have it end. He could smell the subtle tang of Trace's cologne and the combination made his pulse race. Slowly, he opened his eyes, adding the image of his friend's beautiful face to his fantasy. He held his breath, caught in the magnetic pull of the moment, but unwilling to risk Trace's friendship by acting on it.
Clear blue eyes opened, and Trace felt a flutter in his chest, one he didn't recognize but somehow knew was important. The corner of his mouth turned up. "Wake up, sleeping beauty. We're home," he said softly.
For a moment, still foggy with good food, good wine, and the warmth of Trace's touch, David let himself hear the words as a lover would say them. Home. Not David's home, but theirs. A place of love. A promise of making love once they were safely ensconced in the privacy of their bedroom. A tight burning knot formed in his stomach. Swallowing and licking his lips to ease the dryness, David straightened. "Yeah. My shoulder hurts. Probably should pop some pills and go to bed," he said, the words a reminder to himself of why Trace was here.
Trace waited a few moments before pulling his fingers away, immediately missing the warmth. "Let's go, then," he murmured. He recognized that he didn't want to move away, but he shifted out of his seat to stand regardless. Now wasn't the time to go exploring crazy feelings inspired by an oddly romantic night out with his best friend. He shook himself slightly and closed the car door.
Without waiting for Trace, David got out of the car and headed up the path to the front door, hoping to buy himself a few seconds alone to compose himself. He struggled inserting the key with his left hand, cursing with his frustration when he dropped the keys. "God damn it! Fuckin' idiot!" Slamming his palm against the wooden door, he rested his forehead against the beveled glass inset and took several calming breaths. He hated feeling incompetent.
Flinching, Trace stood back even though he wanted to step up and help. David had become increasingly unhappy with being helped, and Trace now had to admit that he should think about going home before David threw him out in annoyance. He was concerned by how much he didn't want to. "Okay?" he ventured.
"Fine," David ground out from between clenched teeth. Taking another deep breath, he leaned over and retrieved the keys, unsure if it was being forced to use his left hand or Trace standing so close that was making him tremble. Finally on the third try, he got the key inserted in the lock and turned. It was a small victory, but he'd take what he could get. Standing in the hall, he looked from the bedroom to the den. He wasn't sure his control was up to Trace helping him undress just yet. "How about a drink now that you aren't worried about driving us home?" he suggested.
For whatever reason, David mentioning home made Trace feel warm all over and a little on the shaky side. And he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, whereas David had been drinking quite a bit. "Sure," he said quietly. "Gonna break out the good stuff?" he asked as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and loosened his tie. Maybe a drink would help him settle what he'd considered in the car.
"You're worth nothing less." David pulled an unmarked dark bottle from the back of the cabinet. "Get us a couple of glasses," he suggested. Watching Trace leave the room, he worked on shedding his jacket.
Trace walked into the kitchen and pulled two tumblers from the cabinet, stopping in the shadowed room for a moment to think. What had he been thinking of in the car? He looked down at his hands. His fingers were itching. Itching to stroke and feel and discover. He curled them into a fist. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him tonight---other than much more time with David than usual, and too long since he'd spent time with an accommodating woman. But he wanted to touch. Touch David like he had in the car. And the look in David's eyes when he had opened them.... He'd never seen a look like that from someone before. It had been scarily intimate.
Bolstered by his success at removing his jacket, David started to work on his tie, draping it over the back of the chair. Toeing off his shoes, he stretched out on the couch and propped his feet on the table, feeling accomplished for a change.
Setting aside the glasses, Trace stepped to the sink and turned on the cold water, plunging his hands into it. He had to snap out of this. Yeah, it was definitely time for a night out ending with a good lay. He was starting to fantasize about David! He sighed, turned off the water, dried his hands, picked up the glasses, and walked into the den. He'd think more about it later. Now, scotch. Lots of it.
Hearing the clink of glass, David smiled over his shoulder. "I've got a special treat for you. I found this bottle in a little pub in Scotland that didn't even have a sign outside."
David's first words sent a shiver through Trace. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. A laid-back guy in general, Trace knew he got even more pliable and agreeable when drunk. He also tended to say things he otherwise wouldn't. "I'll try a bit," he said, planning to have a taste and then flee to the shower. Right now, just being around David at all was keeping him aroused. He should have calmed by now, he kept telling himself.
Taking the glasses from Trace's hands, David poured them both a drink. "Sit. Now close your eyes and take a sip." Trace sat as instructed and accepted the glass, looking at David with a touch of amusement before closing his eyes and lifting the glass, letting just a tiny amount slip between his lips. He inhaled sharply as the flavor and intensity exploded across his tongue, and he swallowed once, then a second time. "Incredible, isn't it?" David purred as the smooth scotch danced across his tongue. Following his own advice, his eyes were closed, savoring the flavor of the liquor and the memories of obtaining it. Moaning softly, he peered at Trace to see his reaction to the drink.
Having taken another slightly larger sip, Trace sank dank into the couch, eyes still closed, a rapturous look on his face as he slowly licked his bottom lip of the drop of scotch that had escaped. Watching Trace's tongue swipe across his lips, David felt the same irresistible pull he'd felt in the car. He wanted to lean over and taste the rich scotch off the other man's mouth, but instead he took another drink and closed his eyes again, blocking out at least the visual temptation. He could still smell Trace's cologne, feel the warmth of his body, and hear the delicious sounds the brunet was making as he enjoyed the scotch.
Trace sighed happily, took another few sips and propped the glass on his knee. "Maybe I'll drink some more of this and sleep right here," he murmured lazily. A fuzzy warmth was already spreading, after just a half a tumbler. It was easier now to discount his worries and odd reactions and difficult questions. Now he could just relax. But.... "David?" he asked, opening his eyes. "Do you need any help before I conk out? Because if I drink the rest of this glass and the second one I'm planning on, I won't be getting off this couch."
"Yeah, and you'll end up on the floor like you did that first night. Don't you remember how much trouble you had sleeping out here?" David chuckled. Pouring them both another glass, David stood up. "Come on. Let's go to bed. I'll let you nursemaid me; we'll finish our scotch and we can pass out in comfort."
Blinking a few times, Trace tried not to think about the double meaning behind what David had just said. Let's go to bed. He'd never given the idea any thought before, not between he and David; it was like he was sensitized to it tonight. More scotch required. "Okay," he said, pushing himself up from the couch and picking up the bottle on his way to the bedroom.
Guess he must want more than one, David thought, shaking his head with a grin and following Trace to the bedroom. The acute attraction that he'd been feeling for Trace had mellowed a little with the alcohol and he could admire the curve of the brunet's backside without feeling the need to push his friend against the wall and molest him.
Stepping into the room and looking at the bed, Trace threw back the rest of his drink, gasping after swallowing it down and gripping the door frame. He dragged in a breath and cleared his throat before walking to the dresser, putting down the glass, and refilling it. The crazy night had really gotten to him. He started unbuttoning his shirt, looking at himself unsteadily in the mirror as the scotch started to kick in.
David stood in the doorway watching as Trace downed his drink. He was tempted to take the rare bottle away from him and replace it with one from the corner liquor store, but he felt petty after everything Trace had done for him since he'd gotten hurt. Walking up behind his friend, David laid a hand on his shoulder and caught Trace's gaze in the mirror. "You okay?" he asked. Trace was downright gorgeous with his hair tumbled loose about his face. David had to swallow past the tightening in his throat as Trace's tan muscular chest was revealed by the open shirt, but the expression on Trace's face was definitely not happy, cooling David's ardor.
Trace raised his eyes in the mirror to look back at his friend. Head tilting to one side, Trace noted that David, usually so carefully put together, was disheveled. And it really looked good on him. "I'm abusing your scotch," Trace said apologetically, eyes riveted on the other man's reflection as he felt the heat from the liquor in his stomach spread to his chest and groin. He wondered if this was how other men---gay men---saw David. Appealing. God, he felt hot. And David standing so close just made it worse.
The look in Trace's eyes softened, his face relaxing into a smile, and David's body heated in a way that had nothing to do with the scotch. Coughing to cover the needy moan that rose unbidden in his throat, David turned and started working on his own buttons one-handed. "Oh, uhmm, that's okay. What's scotch for if not to drink?"
"Mmm. To savor? To sip and feel it burn its way down and up until you're warm all over?" Trace said as he lifted the refilled glass. He was definitely drunk, but not so much so that he didn't know it. And he could tell his body was remembering how it had felt in the car, though his mind was a step behind. Still looking back at David in the mirror---studying, maybe even staring---he watched David's lips move, and a question popped to mind unbidden: Would David's lips be soft like a woman's? Or hard and unyielding like Trace imagined a man's were?
Trace's words spread through David like the scotch, warming him to an almost uncomfortable burn. His mind automatically converted the innocent description to images of Trace savoring and sipping him as he sank down. Fuck! He should have left Trace on the couch. There was no way he was going to be able to hide his body's reaction when he had to ask Trace for help. Most of his buttons were undone, but he'd tried doing this belt one-handed before and it just didn't work.
Realizing the clothes gave him an opportunity, Trace set down the glass of scotch and walked over to David. First he reached out and finished unbuttoning David's shirt. He could feel the heat of David's body radiating to his fingers. He hadn't felt it before. Trace pulled the shirt free of the waistband, really noticing how trim David's waist was. He accidentally---or not---brushed his fingertips along David's belly as he dropped his hand to the belt, pulling on the leather just slightly to free it from the crosspiece.
David swallowed, his stomach quivering under Trace's unintentional touch. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying hard to reverse the swelling that was going on just millimeters from Trace's fingers. The belt pulled free of the punch hole, and Trace used his other hand to push it through the buckle before slipping his fingers inside David's waistband to unbutton the placket and close his fingers on the zipper tab. The heat there was stronger, and Trace slowly lifted his chin. His eyes ran up a bobbing throat, a chiseled chin, and lips that did, really did, look soft. Trace knew without a doubt that if David were a woman, he'd be kissing him right now.
The chant Trace is not gay. He's your friend. And not gay, had taken to repeating itself over and over in David's mind as he willed himself not to move, not to sway into the strong, magnetic heat of Trace's chest only inches away. Closing his eyes, he held his breath until this torture was over. Trace's eyes reached David's, finding them closed, light blond lashes against flushed cheeks. Flushed from the scotch? As Trace lowered the zipper, the side of his hand brushed an unmistakable bulge. The corner of his mouth quirked the tiniest bit. Maybe not from the scotch. Very, very interesting. David was aroused too. To Trace, it looked like David was waiting. Waiting with his eyes closed ... for a kiss? Heart pounding, Trace gave in to the curiosity. He tipped his head to the side and ever so slightly brushed his lips against David's.
David was sure that he was imagining Trace's lips against his own, warm and dry with just a hint of scruff. As quickly as the unexpected touch appeared, it vanished, leaving him wondering if it ever really existed at all. Maybe his lust-soaked brain had conjured the feeling. Confused, his first impulse was to run---run and pretend that Trace was not aware of how excruciatingly turned on he was at the moment. Of course, there was no way that Trace could mistake the ridge his knuckles had brushed. That light touch had just about made David come, and his knees were still feeling watery. He realized that he'd been living in an almost constant state of partial arousal ever since Trace had moved in. Feeling stupid standing with his pants open and eyes shut, swaying slightly, he forced himself to meet Trace's eyes. "Uhm," he choked out, feeling his cheeks burn. He couldn't ask, "Did you just kiss me?" Grabbing his belt to keep his pants from falling to his ankles, he turned and fled for the bathroom.
Trace watched him go, not sure at all what to say, only knowing that David's reaction had flicked something on inside him, like a light switch, and he was swamped with so much desire it embarrassed him. Once the bathroom door shut, Trace staggered to the bed, holding his head in one hand, unable to keep his other from groping himself. He was hot and hard and he just didn't know what to do about it. God, what a night. He must be losing his mind. All the innuendo and flirting and talk had certainly gone to his head, hadn't it? Why else would he be attracted to David all of a sudden? Trace looked up at himself in the mirror. It had to be the scotch, he told himself. And the circumstances. But the feel of David's lips---they had been soft and warm. Not at all what he'd expected.
Frustrated both physically and mentally, Trace pushed himself up from the bed after a long minute and left the house, still barefoot and half-undressed, to dig in the glove compartment of his car and come up with rarely smoked cigarettes and a lighter. He walked back to the stoop and sat on the steps, lighting up with slightly shaking hands, wryly wondering what David would say. Christ. What kind of man was he? Teasing David like that. Trace hoped David wouldn't hold his actions against him.
Leaning back against the closed door, David's body shook. What in the hell was he doing? Trace was his best friend, a friendship that had gotten even deeper over the past few days. He wasn't about to let a sudden attraction and his uncooperative body ruin that. Gripping the edge of the sink, he ran some cold water, splashing it over his face and neck. Wiping at the droplets running down his chest with a towel, he sighed, remembering the light brush of Trace's fingers. Wetting the entire towel, he scrubbed at his skin with the cold terry cloth until his chest was red. Cursing, he tossed the towel into the hamper, stripping off his clothes and leaving them in a careless heap on the floor. The elastic-topped pajama bottoms he'd left on a hook behind the door were manageable at least.
Praying that Trace was already asleep, he turned off the light and cracked open the door. Expecting a dark room, David immediately tensed. The room was empty. Had Trace left? Forgetting his embarrassment in a moment of panic, he raced through the house looking for Trace. Throwing open the front door to check if the car was gone, he practically tripped over the man he was searching for.
Trace barely caught himself from pitching down the steps by grabbing the wrought-iron handrail. "Hey, I'm here," he said, looking up at David in surprise.
Panic subsiding as he realized Trace hadn't left, David felt awkward standing half-naked on his front steps. "Oh, uhm, sorry." He seemed to be apologizing to Trace a lot lately. "I just.... Well, you weren't.... I'd better just say goodnight," he finally managed to stammer out. Silently calling himself twelve kinds of fool, he turned and walked back inside. Maybe he could manage to fall asleep before Trace came back inside. Passing Trace's glass and the bottle of scotch on the dresser, he poured himself a double and swallowed it in one shot.
Frowning, Trace took a last drag to finish the cigarette, feeling like he had a better handle on himself---especially his apparently roving cock. He sighed and stood up, hoping tomorrow everything went back to normal. As exciting as all this was, he wanted his friend David back. He walked back to the bedroom to see David setting an empty glass down on the dresser.
David's eyes connected with Trace's as he entered the room. Mumbling a quick, "Night," he switched off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed, arranging himself carefully on his good shoulder. Trace stood there looking at him through the dark for a minute, then took his turn in the bathroom, came out, and climbed into bed. He was still confused, both by his own body and David's behavior, but by now he was too tired to think about it. Trace dropped off within a few minutes, somewhat restless.
Within fifteen minutes, he had rolled to his side and unconsciously scooted across the bed to lie very close to David's back. Trace's arm was between them, curled toward himself, his knuckles brushing David's shoulder.
Still trying to fall asleep, David could feel Trace's hand against his bare skin like it was burning him. He attempted to shift away, but every time he moved, Trace followed, more and more of their bodies coming in contact. Finally, he rolled toward the other man, reaching out to touch his cheek, giving in to his desire for just a moment before he woke him to move him back to his side of the bed. But instead of waking, Trace relaxed, some of the restlessness leaving him, and he seemed to fall into a calmer sleep. Brushing a long lock of dark hair back from Trace's face, David changed his mind about waking him. His own eyelids feeling heavy, he rolled the rest of the way to his back and let sleep claim him.
Waking up slowly, Trace first knew he was warm, very warm, and cozy, and happily curled up against someone. It didn't throw him at all for several minutes as he still dozed until his brain finally pointed out that he really should have been alone this morning. Frowning a little, very sleepy yet and recognizing a bit of a hangover, Trace tried to remember.
David woke to a dull ache in his shoulder. He had moved to his back, he realized groggily, and his shoulder lay awkwardly on the pillow while the weight of a body was tucked up under that arm lying against his side. Remembering why he'd turned over, he opened his eyes, finding Trace so close that he could feel his breath on his face.
When his pillow jostled, Trace blinked open dark, sleep-heavy eyes to see David very close, and he was so surprised he couldn't even move.
It wasn't the first time they'd woken up against each other in the time that Trace had been staying with him. Apparently they were both cuddlers by nature, but the incredible tension from the night before immediately crackled between them. David felt himself tingle and wanted to lean forward to taste Trace's lips so badly that his mouth watered. Closing the distance slowly, giving Trace plenty of time to roll away, David brushed his lips over his friend's. When the brunet didn't immediately pull away, he licked at the full bottom lip that had been tempting him last night, sucking it softly.
Trace's heart sped slightly, and his eyes closed unconsciously as he felt David's lips on his. It didn't feel scary or wrong. It felt great, actually, with a little bit of surprising spark. Trace didn't want to move. He knew his lips were trembling as they parted slightly on a silent moan. This was David, he told himself. Whatever happened, it would be okay. He uncurled his fingers to spread them across David's chest. David's breath hitched as Trace's hand slid across his chest. It would be so easy to wrap his arms around his friend and find out exactly what this was between them, but he needed Trace to be sure about what was happening. Pulling back, he pulled Trace closer, resting their cheeks together.
After a long moment of not moving, Trace shifted some more. His hand slid until his arm lay across David's ribs, and his head turned to use David's good shoulder as a pillow. He was cuddled up close, and if he actually thought about it right now, he'd probably embarrass himself. But Trace pushed thinking away, just wanting this closeness. Nothing wrong with that, was there?
Relaxing slowly, David shifted his arm to come up and rest on Trace's back, taking the pressure off his shoulder. Trace actually went back to sleep for about half an hour before waking again with a sleepy sigh and burying his face against David's chest. He knew where he was; he just didn't feel any urgency to move. David hadn't pushed him away, after all. Trace coasted his hand up his friend's ribs to tuck his fingers under his own cheek.
David's heart raced as Trace cuddled closer, his mind too full to allow him any more rest. Of course, Trace would sleep 'til noon given the chance. He smiled, dropping a kiss on the top of the dark hair. They had learned a lot about each other in the past two weeks and apparently there was even more to discover. If someone had told him a month ago that he'd be sharing morning kisses with his best friend, he would have told them they were insane, but somehow it just felt right, like a natural extension of the closeness---the intimacy---that had been growing between them. Trace shifted again. An early riser by nature, David felt the need to be out of bed. His shoulder hurt, and he was craving coffee. He ran his hand up Trace's bare arm, hoping to coax him awake. He didn't want him to wake up alone and think David regretted their actions.
"Mmmmmm." Trace burrowed closer and hid his eyes against David's neck, shaking his hair forward to block the dim light coming through the blinds. "Still sleepy," was the muffled murmur.
David couldn't help but chuckle. "You are such a slug-a-bed," he teased, attacking Trace's side with his fingers. "Half the day is gone."
Trace squawked and flailed, trying to catch David's hand. "No no no no no!" he practically squealed, handicapped because of David being so close. Oh, now wasn't that interesting: Trace was ticklish. David grinned, sat up, and crawled on top of the squirming man to renew his attack. "Ack! David! Damn!" Trace yelled as he tried to wriggle away, but he was caught under the other man and conscious of David's shoulder. "I give! I give! Ack!"
"To the victor go the spoils," David announced, looking down at the man beneath him, his eyes melting into liquid pools of blue. "Do you concede that I should be able to claim a favor of my choice?"
"Okay, anything," Trace said miserably, still shivering. "Just no more tickling, please," he begged. He gave David a pitiful look from where he was sprawled under him, hair a mess, face still soft from sleep.
Planting a hand on either side of Trace's head, David leaned down, careful to support his weight on his good arm. "I don't know," he mused, seeming to think it over. "You look good like this." He let his eyes take a long lingering sweep over Trace's flushed face and chest. Mouth hovering dangerously close, David pondered claiming a "real" kiss---a kiss Trace would feel clear down to his toes and hopefully other parts of his anatomy. No, he decided. Trace wasn't ready for where David wanted this to go. When they went farther, it would be because Trace was so ready he was begging. Just the thought darkened David's eyes to the color of the ocean on a stormy day.
Trace studied David's face, his breathing and pulse calming. David's weight felt good, he acknowledged. Solid and squared rather than soft and rounded. He decided he liked it. Trace wondered if David was going to kiss him again. Trace wouldn't mind it. But.... "David?" he said, tone regretful. David's weight was right on his bladder, and that was a problem.
"I think I'll save my boon, but don't forget you owe me. I'll never convince the guys to let a welsher come to the poker game tonight." Grinning, David pushed himself off the bed. "I need coffee. Want some?"
The other man sighed in relief and climbed off the bed as well. "Yes. But not before I go to the bathroom." Trace scooted around David, but turned and hesitated, then impulsively leaned close to drop a light kiss on David's mouth before continuing on his way, pushing the bathroom door closed behind him. Once inside he let out a long, slow breath and raised a hand to touch his lips.
Trace found himself lingering in the bathroom---actually just staring in the mirror at his lips, feeling them buzz with warmth. This was so different from raw sexual attraction. He fucked that out every few weekends. But this? He reached slowly for a washcloth and turned on the water, waiting for it to warm. Trace knew he loved David; there was no question about that. They were best friends, and Trace treasured that. But he wasn't "in love" with David.... Trace looked up into the mirror with wide eyes.
Chill bumps rose on David's skin at Trace's casual but intimate gesture. He hadn't had anyone who stayed around any amount of time in his life for years, and he missed moments like this---lingering in bed, making each other breakfast, casual displays of affection that somehow meant so much more than a fast and furious fuck. Forcing his eyes away from the closed door, he turned in search of coffee. His mind was way too fuzzy to be dealing with the intense thoughts running through it. Thoughts like I'm falling in love with my best friend.
David lost himself in the familiar routine of pulling the coffee beans out of the freezer, the loud whir of the grinder and the hiss of the first drops of coffee hitting the glass pot. Satisfied with the rich aroma filling the kitchen, he walked to the front door to retrieve the three papers he had delivered every morning. He'd always teased Trace that he wouldn't be caught dead reading the Sun-Herald, but having Trace move in with him had shattered that myth. Besides, he liked Trace's entertainment column.
He had no need to have his own paper delivered. He got that at work. But he was addicted to reading The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and Trace's paper, over his morning coffee. He used to have six delivered, but he could read the others online these days. He just hadn't been able to completely forgo the feel of newsprint between his fingers.
Shaking off the rest of his sleepiness, Trace told himself to just cool it. There was nothing wrong with loving his best friend. That didn't mean he wanted wild and crazy man sex. He rolled his eyes at himself and sighed. "Jerk," he muttered. But those kisses had been awfully nice. He wouldn't mind a few of those occasionally. Laughing softly at himself, he wondered what David thought about those kisses. "Probably normal for him," Trace murmured as he walked back out to the bedroom, stretching. Feeling much more stable, he joined David in the kitchen. "Cofffffffeeeeee," he moaned, holding his arms out and walking stiffly like a zombie.
"Fucker." David swatted at Trace playfully as he passed. "You already abused my scotch. You better savor my coffee or I'll be sending you out to McDonald's." He'd already separated the paper so that Trace's favorite sections were folded next to his plate. He'd toasted two bagels and the cream cheese was on the table waiting for Trace to spread on both bagels. Spreading cream cheese was one of the things he'd discovered was almost impossible to do one-handed.
Trace shuffled along, shifting his hips in an unsuccessful effort to miss David's swipe. "Well, McDonald's coffee isn't quite so bad since they went to the new stuff. But if you want really, really good coffee? You go to Waffle House." He mmmm mmmmm'ed to reinforce his point as he pried open the small tub of cream cheese and started spreading it. A lot on his bagel, a little on David's.
"Heathen!" David accused. "How dare you compare my fresh-ground French roast to Waffle House slop?" Taking a bite of his bagel, he disappeared back behind his paper, shifting down in his chair and propping his feet on the seat of Trace's, his bare toes burrowing under the brunet's thigh for warmth.
Good-naturedly shifting to allow for David's toes, Trace took a bite and shrugged. "Who's the food critic, hmmm? I've had coffee all over this city. I should know," he said, thumping the newspaper next to his plate with a knuckle. Then he looked down at it. "Clemens is a Yankee?" he asked, aghast.
David chuckled. He wasn't getting pulled into that one for any amount of money.
Almost two hours flew as the two men made their way through a twelve-cup pot of coffee and all three newspapers, passing sections back and forth in silence other than the occasional exclamation. Folding the last section and pulling his laptop forward, David sighed. "I guess I should get a little writing done before the guys show up. Are you gonna stick around for poker tonight?"
"Ooh, is that an official invitation?" Trace asked with a grin. "I'm still no good at poker, but I'll hang around awhile ... if only for another chance at that scotch," he said, waggling his eyebrows. Then he smiled warmly. "I'd also like to meet your friends."
David glowered back. "I don't know. If Matt sees you guzzling his four-hundred-dollar-a-bottle Thordanrach, he's liable to shoot you. At the very least, he won't help you escape Katherine's clutches at this year's bachelor auction. But yes, if you think you can behave, I'd like to have you come."
Trace affected a chastened look. "I'll be good, I promise!" he said earnestly, eyes sparkling, lips pursed into a smile that was obviously holding back a laugh.
"Good. Think you could make it to the grocery store this afternoon? I'm still not supposed to drive and if we leave it to the guys to bring food, we'll be eating hot dogs and chips."
"Sure. I've got a few hours in the office and an interview at a gallery downtown. I can go after that. What do you want me to get?" Trace asked, leaning back to sip his last cup of coffee. It struck him, out of the blue, how domestic this all seemed. It made him smile. Who'd have thought it would feel so good?
"I'll make you a list while you grab a shower. In case you hadn't noticed, it's almost one." David laughed as Trace jumped up from the table.
"Damn it!" Trace exclaimed as he took two steps, then two steps back to put down the coffee cup, and then rushed out of the kitchen.
David moved around the house, setting out snacks, brewing a pot of coffee and filling the ice bucket. Trace had dashed through the door minutes ago, just barely ahead of the other guys. He was in the bedroom changing now. Keeping busy to resist the urge to join him and catch a glimpse of the body that had been on his mind all day, David opened a bag of nuts, grateful that Trace seemed to have picked things in packages he could open.
Trace's voice came from the back of the house. "David? Have you seen my red shirt? It's not in the closet, and I'm sure I left it here."
"Yeah," David shouted back, moving toward the laundry room. "I threw it in the wash. Just a sec. I'll get it." Snatching the hanger off the rod where he'd hung it out of the dryer, David walked into the bedroom. "Here you go."
Trace was standing with his back to the door, pulling up very form-fitting jeans over clinging boxer briefs. "Thanks," he said distractedly as he settled the jeans on his hips, leaving them unfastened so he could tuck the shirt in. He turned around to reach for it.
David gulped as Trace turned around, his eyes lingering on the muscular chest and the enticing line of dark hair traveling down from Trace's belly button to disappear beneath his boxer briefs. Forcing his eyes back up, he watched with fascination as Trace's nipples hardened under his gaze.
Trace blinked as his body responded to that focused gaze. Wow. He could feel the tension zipping between them---something that had never happened before.
Whatever this was that was happening between them definitely wasn't one-sided and that knowledge spread warmth through David's body. Taking the shirt off the hanger, he stepped forward, intending to drape it around Trace's shoulders just as the doorbell rang. Catching Trace's eyes with a regretful look, he shrugged, turning away to answer the door.
Trace went still as he saw David looking over him frankly, and a zing rippled through him. He blinked and tilted his head. So last night wasn't a fluke caused by scotch. He shifted his weight to move forward when he heard the bell, and the regret on David's face was clear. Trace wondered what David would have done. "David," Trace said. He took two steps to stop at his side and lifted the shirt from his hand before he could leave the room. "Thanks." It was meant for more than just bringing the shirt.
David's heart, racing from his intimate examination of Trace's chest, stopped as Trace spoke his name. One side of his mouth curled up in a smile. Just ask, he thought. Ask me to stay, and I'll ignore the door and the people on the other side forever. "I'd better get the door."
Reassured by David's appraisal and the husk in his voice, Trace smiled slowly. He'd have never thought that discovering a man was aroused by him would feel so good. "Go on," he said. "I'll be out in a minute."
Head still back in the bedroom with Trace, David opened the door for Patrick and John. He could see Jared pulling into the driveway. Matt would be late; he always was. John moved to cuff David's shoulder in his usual greeting, and David flinched.
His friend's dark eyebrows pulled together in concern. "You okay?" he asked.
David smiled to put his friend at ease. "Leave your doctor's bag in the car, John. I just hurt my shoulder a few weeks ago. It's just about healed, but still a little tender."
"Tender?" Trace commented in amusement from where he stopped just inside the room. He'd finished getting dressed, leaving his feet bare and the top two buttons on his shirt undone, looking cool and casual with his hair finger-combed behind his ears.
The glare David shot in his direction was filled with more fondness than anger. "Yes, tender. Let's go into the living room. Guys, this is Trace. Trace, John and Patrick." Unconsciously, he stroked his hand over Trace's middle as he walked past, his fingers curling around the brunet's side just above his belt before dropping back to his side.
Entering the living room, Patrick pulled David to the side. "New lover?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in a peaked arch.
A chill settled around David's shoulders. He hadn't considered his nosy friends' take on his relationship with Trace. Their not-so-thoughtful teasing could ruin something as gentle and new as what was building between them. "Fuck, no!" he answered boisterously. "You've seen my type. He's just a friend helping out. More than I can say for you fuckers."
Turning to watch the others pass, Trace bit his lip when he heard David's response to some too-quiet question, one he could easily figure out. It wasn't what David said to answer it that confused him or even bothered him. It was the twinge of disappointment he felt. Trace rubbed his hand over his belly where David's hand had touched him. They were still best friends, he reminded himself. No matter what.
David bellowed "Come in!" when the doorbell sounded for the second time. He'd left the door open on purpose. Making another round of introductions, he worked at making sure everyone had a drink, noticing that Trace took care of bringing all the food into the room, setting it around on TV trays. They made a great couple---team, he corrected, his eyes darting back to Trace again as the guys introduced themselves. He couldn't keep his eyes off of him. Matt's voice from the doorway startled him.
"Trace! What a surprise," the photographer announced as he entered the room.
Turning halfway around, a bowl still in his hand, Trace grinned. "Hey, Matt. Welcome to the party. I hear you trounce these yahoos regularly. I didn't know you were handy with anything but a camera."
"Oh, I have many talents. Just ask David." The photographer shot David an exaggerated leer, causing roars of laughter from the guys who were used to Matt and David's innuendo and flirting. Trace grinned at the playful banter. This was hardly any different from a night out with some of his own friends. He could handle this.
"Punctuality not being one of them. Shut up and deal," David ordered, everyone taking their seats. He cocked his head, looking at Trace when he took a seat on the opposite side of the table.
"Don't deal me in. I'm just an observer," Trace said easily, grabbing a handful of barbecue twists to munch.
"That don't fly with this group. We don't do observers. If you stay, you play," Patrick teased, patting a chair beside him. "I'll help."
With a doubtful smirk, Trace shifted over next to him. "All right, but I'm warning you. David tried to teach me the basics, and it didn't go well." He glanced up at David as he settled back down.
"I'm a much better teacher than David. Right, fellas?" Patrick said. A chorus of jeers answered his comment, and they all contributed chips to the newcomer.
David felt a niggling of unease as Patrick's attention focused on Trace, the physical therapist angling his chair so that their knees had to be touching. Other than Matt, Patrick was the only other member of their group that had any interest in men. He wasn't gay, but he was definitely bi, and Trace was downright gorgeous tonight. A foot kicked David's shin, and Matt leaned close to his ear.
"You need to find your poker face or you won't win anything tonight," the photographer warned.
Trace watched Matt's and David's heads close together, making him wonder. No. Not Matt. Trace would have noticed before. Besides, David had said they had a history. Not a "now." He shifted his attention back to Patrick, who leaned closer to him with one elbow on the table. Trace was certain Patrick was flirting with him. Lips twitching, Trace listened to Patrick murmur a question about the cards. No harm in a little flirting, after all.
A couple of hours later, David tossed his cards into the center of the table for the fourth hand in a row. "I fold." Poker took concentration, and all of his attention was centered on the two men flirting on the opposite side of the table. Patrick had folded earlier and was currently draped over Trace's shoulder helping him play his hand.
"Time for food. Come help me, David," Matt said, getting to his feet and nudging his friend.
David rolled his eyes. Matt wasn't known for his subtlety. He got to his feet anyway. If he didn't follow, there was no telling what Matt would say or do. Once in the kitchen, Matt turned on David, his voice hushed. "Is something going on between you and Trace?" he asked flat out.
"Doesn't appear to be," David stated, opening the refrigerator and taking out the rest of the salsa.
"Only if you've got your eyes shut," Matt retorted. "There's sparks flying off the two of you like fireworks. And Patrick is just eating it up since you're doing your best to ignore it."
"Maybe hanging around me has opened Trace's eyes to the possibilities of attraction to men. He certainly is looking at Patrick differently than he would have a month ago."
"Hanging around? Since when has Trace been hanging around? And why were you out to dinner last night? That was a pretty spiffy dinner for two 'friends' ... which I didn't know about, either," Matt needled.
"We've been friends for a long time. Trace came over to bring me meds for a migraine almost two weeks ago and sort of just stayed," David chuckled, knowing that sounded crazy. "I hurt my shoulder, and he was already here. He's a pal."
Matt tilted his head to one side, studying David. "He's more than a friend, isn't he?" he asked. He'd known David a long time. They'd even tried being together for awhile before it became obvious they were better off as pals. Matt had never seen David react to someone like this.
David braced his arms on the counter. "I thought ... maybe. Last night at the restaurant, that was just business. Trace was doing reviews, but something was building." He looked up sheepishly. "Pretty pathetic, huh? I'm too old to be falling for straight friends."
The other man took a few steps to the counter to get some napkins, taking a casual look out at the poker table where Patrick was still flirting heavily, much to John and Jared's amusement. While Trace wasn't exactly encouraging it, he was obviously enjoying it. The corner of Matt's mouth quirked as he watched Trace subtly flirt back. He turned back to David, eyes dancing. "You sure he's totally straight?"
"No. Actually at this point, I'm pretty sure he's bi-curious."
Matt's smile soon matched his eyes. "And would it be you who introduced him to the curious stage?" he drawled, wagging his eyebrows.
"Pervert," David accused, eyes sparkling back. The light in his eyes disappeared as he glanced out at Trace, seeing the restaurant critic's forehead fall onto Patrick's shoulder as he laughed. "I guess I did, but Trace has obviously decided to do a little exploring on his own."
"You've got it bad, haven't you?" Matt said quietly, shaking his head. He glanced back out to the poker game. "Hell. Trace is a notorious flirt; that's known all over town. He's dated most of the eligible women, and most of them would kill for another go at him. So just think about this: He's taken care of you. He's moved in with you to do it. And I'll bet he's made a regular habit of doing up your pants. Patrick's not a threat."
David flushed at the accuracy of Matt's assessment. He'd known the photographer long enough to know that he sometimes saw things that others missed. "Why isn't Patrick a threat?"
Matt's smile was back. "Because in between laughing and the negligible bit of flirting Trace is doing, he's watching us. Correction. Watching you. Just like he has since I got here."
"I haven't felt this way about someone in a long time, but.... "David looked up at his friend, grinning. "I'm telling this to the wrong person, aren't I?"
Toasting David with a freshly poured glass, Matt winked and headed back out to the poker table, asking loudly what he'd missed and why the hell were some of his chips gone?
Trace watched Matt come back to the table, and when David didn't immediately follow, his brow creased. Was David hiding out in the kitchen? Maybe he needed some help and didn't want to admit it in front of his other friends? After another long minute, he threw in his hand despite the three of a kind and slinked out of the chair, using his mostly empty glass as an excuse to escape to the kitchen.
He didn't see Matt's grin.
"David? You okay?" Trace asked as he stepped through the doorway.
"Yeah, just getting over a serious case of verde poisoning," David said, holding up the bottle of scotch. "Refill?"
"Please," Trace answered, looking at David quizzically as he stopped next to him at the table. After watching the scotch gurgle into the glass, he said, "Your friends are a hoot."
"Hmmm." David answered noncommittally. "I'm having a serious problem with one of them at the moment." He swung away from the counter, trapping Trace between his body and the cabinets.
Trace's eyes widened as his ass bumped the counter and a little of the scotch in the glass sloshed over his fingers. "What kind of problem?" he asked, eyes flickering over David's face. This was a totally new behavior in Trace's experience, this slightly dominant turn---though he was finding it very appealing. And if Trace didn't know better, he'd think he was being maneuvered into a torrid kiss.
"I seem to have become a little intolerant." David fingers brushed Trace's hair back from his face. "Of anyone touching you." Leaning forward, he pressed their bodies together. "But me," he growled.
The tone of David's voice and the heat of his closeness had Trace shivering before he could repress it, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from David's flashing blue eyes. It registered with Trace that he was aroused again, just by those few words and the possessiveness implied. It made him reexamine his thoughts from when he'd been watching David and Matt pal around. Did he want this? The ball of desire starting to roil in his gut answered his question. "A little intolerant?" he asked, one hand closing carefully on David's elbow since he still had the glass of scotch in the other. Yeah. Yeah, he wanted it. He wanted to pull David closer to feel the heat from his skin.
"Well, I'm not sure that you even want me to touch you, so I can't be much more than that, can I?" David stroked Trace's cheek. "Do you, Trace?" he rasped. "Do you want me to touch you?"
Trace was stunned. He was being seduced. Skillfully seduced. And he was loving it. Riveted by the magnetism pouring off David and the contrast of his soft touch, Trace slid one hand to David's good shoulder, tipped his head to the side and lifted his mouth to press their lips together. He wanted to know what it felt like, that passion burning in David's eyes. David moaned, tilting his head to fit their mouths together more firmly. One hand slid down Trace's side, his fingers clutching at the denim-clad hip.
"David, it's your deal!" Matt yelled from the other room, his voice heavily laced with amusement. David and Trace pulled apart abruptly, turning their chins to look toward the doorway that had just enough angle to shield them from view.
Trace turned heated eyes back to David. "I do," he said with a rakish smile. He sauntered back to the living room, doing his best to hide the little bit of trembling in his hands. He was more turned on than he would have believed possible from kissing a man. Only he was almost sure it was from kissing David.
David steadied himself on the counter, taking several deep breaths until his knees quit shaking. Walking back into the living room and over to the table, he leaned over Trace's shoulder, pulled the long dark hair back from his friend's neck and lowered his lips to Trace's ear. "I'd probably be a bad host if I kicked everyone out, huh?" he whispered conspiratorially, running his lips down the exposed neck until Trace shivered in reaction, leaving no doubts with anyone in the room about how David felt about his house guest, whose brown eyes fluttered shut for a few seconds before reopening to shift to David with a twinkle. Patrick shook his head ruefully and tossed several chips at Matt, who just snickered.
David sat back down in his seat, glaring at Matt with mock outrage. "Fucker!" he accused, planting a noisy kiss on the photographer's cheek. More quietly, he added, "Thank you." Matt winked at his longtime friend.
"Damn it. Shot down again," Patrick muttered good-naturedly. "You better keep him happy, David, or I'll steal him away," he declared. John and Jared actually chuckled, and John pointed at Trace, whose cheeks were flushing as he shuffled the cards.
"You'll try," David shot back, looking at his cards. "I'll open with fifty."
The rest of the night was just as amusing and a little bit more charged, infusing all the men with raucous humor and teasing. While Patrick dialed back the intensity of his flirting, it didn't stop, and Trace realized it was just in the other man's nature. So he enjoyed it and the other guys' ribbing, especially when he slanted his own glances David's way.
"You're not as bad a player as you claimed, Trace," Jared said as they cleaned up. Trace sketched a bow, a bowl of chips in each hand.
"Oh, I definitely expect you back in the game," Matt said with a chortle as he gathered his winnings. "We get the added benefit of David being too distracted to play as well as usual." Trace's eyes widened a little, and he glanced to the kitchen where David was directing Jared on putting stuff away. "Oh, don't give me that innocent look," Matt said. "I watched you flirt with him all night after his little show of possessiveness. You did it quietly, but it was still there."
Pausing next to Matt, Trace felt a moment of nerves. He wasn't sure what he was getting into, only that it was exciting and new and felt different from anything he'd done before. He didn't know if it was because he was such close friends with David already and the growing attraction was layering over that, or if it was just that David was a man. It worried Trace a little that he might be that shallow.
"Quit thinking so hard," Matt said quietly. Trace blinked and looked down at him. Matt just smiled. "You're gonna be fine. He already loves you."
"Of course he does. We're best friends," Trace answered automatically.
Matt's eyes twinkled. "Of course," he replied tolerantly as he tucked the wad of bills into his wallet. "Hey, David!" he called out louder. "You need to make sure you have Trace here next time so I can win again!"
"That's the only way you'll ever win," David tossed back, squeezing John's shoulder as he walked him toward the door, waving at Patrick who was already in his car. He told himself he wasn't pushing his friends out the door, but he wasn't doing anything to encourage them to stay longer either. Most poker nights, someone lagged behind, and they propped their feet back with a final scotch, but tonight the only one he wanted to get alone was Trace.
Matt chuckled as he stood up and moved to the kitchen door, Trace following along since he had the bowls of chips. "I look forward to winning a lot, then," the photographer teased, giving David a careful hug and whistling as he walked out the door with Jared, who waved at Trace and David as he left.
Trace, one bowl in hand, the other in the curl of his arm, was still staring after Matt as the man jogged down the steps. If Matt'd be winning a lot, that meant he expected Trace would be around. Would he? He was a little thrown by the immediate affirmative answer that leapt to mind. Not because of the fun to be had playing poker and hanging out, but because of the shiver he remembered feeling when David had cornered him in the kitchen and later when he had kissed his neck in full view of the others. Trace felt a spike of desire in his groin. Christ. If he felt like this around a woman, he'd be pulling her clothes off for a hot fuck right now followed by a night of leisurely teasing and more pleasure.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?" David asked, stepping up to Trace's side, his chest brushing Trace's arm. Reaching out, he took one of the bowls, but didn't step away.
Trace was honest. "You," he said with a smile.
David felt his skin tingle as chill bumps spread across his skin. Raising his injured arm, he stroked his thumb over Trace's cheek. He wanted Trace with a passion that he hadn't experienced in years. Placing his bowl on the counter, he lifted the other from Trace's hands, pulling the taller man to him once their hands were all free. "You need to tell me what you want," he whispered, lifting Trace's hair and stroking his neck. "I don't want to read something into this that you aren't offering."
Trace's eyes fluttered half-shut as David's soft touches heated him. "I don't know what I want, David," he admitted. "But it feels good. I don't want it to stop. Can't we just ... see what happens?"
Pulling Trace even closer until he was resting against David's chest, the blond buried his face under the curtain of dark hair, his lips moving against Trace's neck as he talked. "Anything you want. Slow and easy. We'll see what happens. God, you smell so good; I want to lick you all over." David licked from the hollow of Trace's collarbone to the sweet patch behind his ear. He realized his words were awfully provocative for a man who'd just promised slow, but it was the truth. Sucking softly at the tender patch of skin, he hooked Trace by his belt loop and pulled their hips together.
Purring deep in his chest, Trace burrowed close as he twined his arms around David's neck and tilted his head to the side in encouragement. "Slow and easy," he echoed, voice low. After a soft purr, he said, "You're seducing me, aren't you?"
David chuckled, a deep masculine sound that curled around low in Trace's body and squeezed. "I was thinking that you were seducing me." Kissing and nipping at the offered neck, he rocked their lower bodies together in a rhythmic wave.
Trace gasped softly and lifted his hips against David's. "No, must be you. I'm not sure where I'd even start. Does what works on a woman work on you?" He shifted one arm to curl it around David's neck.
Stepping backward, David's hand trailed down to clasp Trace's, pulling him along as he led him toward the bedroom. "Let's find out."
Both Trace's brows raised in smiling disbelief. It wasn't what he'd expected, but he'd certainly go along. "I wouldn't be pulling you down the hall," he said with a laugh.
"You wouldn't?" David asked, his voice husky as he gathered Trace close again and leaned back against the wall. "Then show me what you'd do."
Eyes flashing in interest, Trace took a steadying breath and stepped right up against David, only his hands on David's chest between them, starting to unbutton his shirt as Trace first rubbed their cheeks against each other, then moved just enough for his lips to hover over David's, teasing. Trace moved his head slowly, almost sliding their lips together as he kept unbuttoning, knuckles purposely dragging downward. David moaned, the moist heat from his mouth mixing with Trace's. Nudging his chin up just a fraction, he played with the magnetic force between their lips, hovering so close but not quite touching. His nipples hardened to aching points as Trace dragged his shirt apart. Trace hummed quietly as he slid one hand inside David's shirt to rub over smooth, warm skin until his palm covered one of those nipples. "Answers that question," he breathed, moving his palm in a slow circle.
"What question?" David gasped as Trace's fingers grazed the hypersensitive nipple.
Trace chuckled lowly. David appeared to have already forgotten what he'd asked Trace to do. "My, my," he drawled. "Isn't that interesting." He shifted his face slightly to the side, teasing his lips along David's cheekbone.
David's eyes drifted closed as he lost himself in the feel of Trace's hands deliberately on his body. Trace. His friend. Trace. His lover. David's cock throbbed in his jeans, but uncharacteristically, he felt no need to rush. There was no hurry. Whatever was happening between them, they'd only have these moments once, and David felt nothing but anticipation and an eagerness to enjoy every moment. "More," he whispered harshly. "Touch me."
The warmth pouring off David's skin kept Trace close, and he let his eyes fall closed. The hall was mostly dark anyway. But he could feel. Trace lifted a second hand and slid it inside David's shirt as well, but made no attempt to pull the shirt free of David's jeans or push it off his shoulders. This was exploring, and Trace was more than content to do exactly what David asked for and no more. It was powerful, knowing that it was his touch that aroused David. His lips skipped softly along David's jaw while his hair tumbled forward to shield their faces. Their bodies were a bare inch apart. Trace could feel the quiet urge to push closer, but it was easily ignored. Just see how it goes, he told himself, moving to drag his fingertips across the tightened nubs.
David groaned, the muscles in his chest quivering. Swallowing, he rubbed their cheeks together, his nose nudging at Trace, begging for a kiss. Giving in to a desire he didn't know he had, Trace trailed one of his hands up David's chest and buried it in his hair while lifting his mouth to David's. It was soft and slow, first just their lips pressed together, before Trace dared to dart out his tongue to ever so slightly run along David's lower lip. David's tongue met his, tempting it into his mouth and sucking at it playfully. David's hands had been resting innocently at Trace's waist; now they ran up his sides and around his back to knead at the tight muscles under the soft shirt.
Trace sighed softly as he tasted scotch and David, a heady combination. His fingers lightly caressed David's hair as he leisurely continued the kiss. When David's hands started moving on him, he groaned aloud and pulled away from the kiss. "Aww, hell. Start that and I'll do whatever you want." He arched his back slightly into David's hands. He adored a massage. Women who figured that out usually had him like putty in their hands.
"You will, will you?" David chuckled, nipping playfully at Trace's bottom lip and starting them toward the bedroom again. "Come on then, Jackson. I'll trade you a back rub for a good night kiss, but it better be a good one."
Trace laughed lightly as David walked him backward into the bedroom. "Mmmm. I'm getting off light," he kidded before pulling away to stretch. He hadn't realized he'd tensed up so much this evening. Must be the stress of the unknown, he thought.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm expecting one hell of a good night kiss." David reached for the small lamp beside the bed, wanting to see Trace as he touched him. "Take off your clothes and lie down." Anticipating Trace's reluctance, he assured, "I promise your virtue is safe in my hands. It just makes it easier to massage you. I'm gonna go slip into my pajamas and grab some lotion. Care to finish undoing me?"
Trace's lips twitched as he paced over to David to unfasten his jeans. "David, you've seen me in wet Speedos. That doesn't leave much to the imagination," he said wryly as his fingers slid inside the waistband and his knuckles brushed bare skin.
Unable to help it, David's breath caught as the tips of Trace's fingers grazed the head of his erection. Through clenched teeth, he rasped, "Yeah, and my imagination was certainly running in overdrive that day." Stepping back the moment his pants were undone, he turned from temptation. He'd promised Trace slow and easy, and begging for more of Trace's touch on his over-heated cock wasn't keeping his word. He momentarily contemplated jacking off as he shed his clothes, but decided he'd rather draw out this exquisite torture and take care of himself after his kiss. On the other side of the door, David grinned, thinking of the times during the past two days when he'd felt Trace hard against him. Pulling up his pajama bottoms, he reached into the medicine cabinet for the bottle of massage oil.
Watching David contemplatively as he turned away, Trace rubbed his fingers together. He was fairly sure he knew what he'd touched, and he didn't want to think about it too closely. The idea of kissing another man: okay. The idea of touching his aroused cock? Trace swallowed and flushed, curling his hand into a fist. Disconcerting. Embarrassing, even, which in turn really embarrassed him. Intellectually, he knew there was nothing wrong with touching another man. Just wasn't something he'd thought about trying. Until now. It struck Trace then that David really wanted him. And Trace definitely didn't like the idea of teasing him. The other man reentered the bedroom. "David, is this a good idea? I don't want to get you all riled up."
David stopped next to Trace and reached up to smooth out the worry creasing his brow. "Does it bother you that I get turned on by your touch, your body, your kiss?" he asked softly.
Trace closed his eyes as David touched him gently. "No. That's a hell of a boost to my ego, actually," he admitted before reopening his eyes. "I ... I'm just a bit wigged about doing something about it. I know I hate a tease," he said frankly.
"You're thinking too much." David started to pull Trace's shirt out from his jeans. "I know who you are, and I know you've never done this before. I promised slow, and I intend to enjoy every moment of slow. If you get to a place you're uncomfortable, no harm, no foul. We can slow down, stop, back up and just be friends. If it gets to be too much for me, I'll let you know. Okay?" Reaching up, he cupped Trace's cheek.
The look in Trace's eyes was soft and affectionate, and he turned his chin to kiss David's palm. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll try to stop thinking so much," he said, smile reappearing. He reached down to undo his jeans since David was pulling on his shirt.
David stepped back and let Trace undress. He couldn't even undress himself. He wasn't much help, but someday, he promised himself, someday I'll strip every stitch of clothing from him and make love to him like no one has ever before. Turning his back, David sat on the side of the bed, giving Trace some privacy and hoping to put him at ease.
Trace pulled off his shirt, draping it over the dresser, and got out of his jeans. His hand trailed along the waistband of his briefs, but he decided against it. He totally believed David wouldn't push, but he was more concerned that he'd be too self-conscious to enjoy the massage. So Trace left them on and crawled onto the bed. "Okay," he said, wiggling to get comfortable.
"Chicken," David teased, turning and catching sight of Trace's barely clothed form. The boxer briefs clung to every dip and curve of his ass and upper thighs, effectively hiding nothing. Kneeling on the bed, David straddled Trace's body, his weight coming to rest on the top of Trace's thighs. Reaching for the bottle of oil, he let his chest brush Trace's back.
Trace snorted and shook his head, laying it down on the pillow he'd pulled under himself, and he sighed when he felt David's skin against his. Oh, he could grow to enjoy this. Enjoy this a lot. "Get to work," he ordered snootily. David laughed, choosing to pour the cool oil directly onto Trace's back instead of warming it in his hands like he normally would. Trace inhaled sharply and kept himself from rearing back---not that he could go far with David's weight on his legs. "Thanks," he said sarcastically, though it was softened with a snorting laugh. "I'm real relaxed now."
"Yeah, well, don't piss off the masseuse." David started to work the oil into Trace's back, moving it from where it had settled in the channel along his spine over the broad planes of muscle. He pushed deeply, feeling a slight twinge in his shoulder. He'd have to take it easy with his injured side and do the really hard kneading only with his left hand. Closing his eyes, he fell into a rhythm that was relaxing him as well as Trace.
"Mmmm, don't strain your shoulder," Trace murmured as he started to feel the muscles releasing the knots.
Not wanting a reminder of Trace's role as his caregiver, David worked as hard as he could at turning the tables---giving to Trace as passionately as Trace had given to him over the past few weeks. Using his body weight as leverage, he rocked forward to press deeply into the meaty muscle of the other man's shoulders, his cock swelling as it pressed into the cleft of Trace's ass. Even through two layers of cloth, the touch was electric. Not wanting to make Trace uncomfortable, he immediately shifted back, sliding his hands down Trace's back to work at the muscles along the sides of his spine.
A happy purr rumbled in Trace's chest as David worked, every thought going out of his head except how good David's strong hands felt on him. He drew in a long, slow breath, and his eyes fluttered open when he felt David lean into him, hard and long and unmistakable. But before he could do anything more than recognize it, David had already pulled back. Trace swallowed and realized his pulse was thrumming. It was another sign that David truly wanted him.
David felt Trace tense. Damn. He couldn't control his body's reaction to the sexy brunet; he simply desired him too much. So he was going to have to get Trace okay with it somehow. He leaned forward again, his body conforming to Trace's back, and whispered next to his ear. "Relax. I know you trust me. Just for a minute, don't think. Just feel." He pushed his aroused body unashamedly against Trace's ass. "You do that to me. You're sexy and beautiful, and it turns me on. I know you've danced with women, possibly even the wife or girlfriend of a good friend, and had your body react. Contact, touch, it tantalizes, teases, and my body responds. It feels good. Hell! It feels great. Even if it isn't going anywhere. If my touch brings you pleasure, and your touch brings me pleasure, just leave it at that. Don't make it any more complicated." David pulled the curtain of dark hair to the side and let his lips ghost over the back of Trace's neck.
Trace shuddered under David and obeyed, just trying to relax and feel. The longer David rocked slowly against him, the more Trace was steadily growing more and more fond of it. It was arousing. He groaned and unconsciously shifted his weight off his own cock, which had hardened in reaction to David's compliments. Trace sucked in a surprised breath as his body reacted positively. David was right. It felt great.
Picking up the rhythm with his hands, David went back to the massage, letting his fingers mold Trace's muscles. His eyes shut and he bit his lip as Trace's hips continued to undulate in counter point to his movements. The fact that the erotic enticement was unintended made it even more provocative. The tension continued to build to the brink of climax, David's muscles trembling before he forced himself to slow the pace. Coming against Trace's ass wasn't a part of the slow seduction forming in his mind. Practically melted against the pillows, Trace moaned in protest without thinking about it first, and his hands flexed to grip the sheets. Fuck, he was so turned on. "David," he said hoarsely.
"Shhhh," David soothed, changing the massage to long light brushes of his fingertips from shoulder to hip in alternating crisscross patterns. He could hear the need in Trace's voice and wanted so badly to offer to ease his ache, but he knew that Trace wasn't ready for that yet. He bit his cheek. It might hurt now, but losing Trace's friendship would kill him.
The light massage encouraged Trace to relax again, and slowly the arousal he'd felt at David's hands drained away as he got sleepier. All he knew was it felt incredible---and that David had aroused him so much he'd about come against the sheets. Trace pushed the thought away to mull over later. For now, he was just feeling.
David felt Trace's body relax, sinking deep into the mattress. He continued to gently stroke Trace's back, shoulders, arms, and hair until the slow, even breathing told him Trace was asleep. Carefully lifting himself off the bed, he snagged Trace's shirt off the dresser as he passed and walked barefoot into the living room.
Slipping the shirt over his arms but leaving it unbuttoned, he lifted the collar to his face, breathing in Trace's scent. His cock throbbed between his legs, leaving a spreading wet patch on the thin cotton of his pajamas. Stretching out on the couch, he slipped his hand under the elastic, pushing the pants down onto his thighs. Wrapped in Trace's scent, David quickly stroked himself to completion, Trace's name escaping on a breathy gasp as he came.
As Trace slept, he dreamed. Dreamed of being held, of soft and lingering kisses. He could feel strong hands on his skin, hands with strength he enjoyed. Lips on his neck, his most sensitive spot, making him gasp, and the feel of a rock-hard body shifting against his, rolling on the bed, holding him, just being close. There were occasional sparks, but for the most part he was content to lie in the strong arms wrapped around him, stealing a kiss now and then as they murmured about something he couldn't remember. When he started to wake, Trace shifted his legs first, the warmth of the dream naturally translating to a morning erection.
David stirred as the man in his arms shifted. When he'd returned to bed the night before, he'd lain on his back and Trace had immediately cuddled against his side. Trace's leg was now resting securely between David's thighs. He groaned as the brunet moved again, his leg pressing directly against David's erection. David's hand moved down Trace's back to grip his hip and stop the subtle grinding that was going to drive him out of his mind. Trace hummed quietly and stilled again, but not before burrowing closer into the warm arms wrapped around him.
Shit. Now what? Once David was awake, he wanted to get up and fix coffee. He just wasn't any good at lying in bed. He didn't want to disturb Trace, but the man was liable to sleep another couple of hours. He attempted to slide out of Trace's arms, but Trace frowned and struggled to wake up enough to see what was wrong. "David?" he asked, his voice husky.
His name and the unfocused look in Trace's eyes were just too much when David was this close. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over Trace's mouth. It was as if Trace had never left his dream. The butterfly kiss was gone so quickly Trace tried to gain another, lifting a hand to curl about the back of David's neck. The blond groaned, tilting his head and deepening the kiss, their lower bodies surging forward without conscious direction. David's hand stroked down Trace's back, cupping his ass and hitching him even closer before he realized what he was doing.
Jerking away, David rolled out of the bed and to his feet. Without even looking at Trace, he ran a shaky hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "I'm sorry," he said, eyes darting to the man lying on his bed and then away in a blink. "I'm going ... uhm.... Coffee." With one more swipe through his hair, he fled.
The warmth and pleasure investing Trace's body faltered, and he dragged his eyes open as he heard David saying something, but before he could ask him to repeat it, David was gone. And Trace felt like he was buzzing all over. Humming faintly, he shifted to his back, one hand straying below his hips, and he rubbed his palm over himself, rocking slightly as he sank back into the dream.
Trace hummed along with the sultry jazz music, shifting his weight back and forth along with the beat as he stirred the mix in the deep stock pot. He scooped up some of the liquid and pursed his lips to blow on it before he sipped it off the wooden spoon carefully.
David stopped in the doorway, watching Trace sway to the deep bass beat. The brunet and the jazz were a good match, both innately sensual. "Something smells good," he said, walking into the room. He stopped and pressed against Trace's back, resting his chin on his shoulder. "Special dinner? Did you cook, or bribe one of the chefs trying to get into your good graces?" Nuzzling Trace's neck, he nodded toward the pot. "Taste?"
"I made it myself, I'll have you know. I did bribe somebody to get the recipe, though," Trace said with a grin, lifting the spoon so David could sip from it. "Good, huh?"
A deep moan of approval rose from David's chest. "Excellent. But I'd expect nothing less." David grinned, shifting to lean his hip against the counter and watch as Trace spread a mixture of butter and fresh garlic on a loaf of bread. The brunet wore a pair of faded jeans with holes in both knees and an ass that was so threadbare it was almost white. His T-shirt wasn't much better. It had been washed so many times that it was impossible to tell what its original color had been, but it clung to the muscular shoulders and arms enticingly. The attraction David was feeling for his friend had grown exponentially since the poker game a couple of weeks ago.
"Do you want some wine?" Trace asked, still swaying to the music as he reached into the cabinet for some glasses.
"Sure. I haven't had any pain meds today." Pulling the opener out of the drawer, he turned to the bottle sitting on the counter, cursing as he twisted the corkscrew with the wrong hand. "Damn!"
Trace sighed and walked over to take the bottle and corkscrew, pausing long enough to press a soft kiss to David's shoulder. "Well, you must be getting better if you get that far before it twinges on you," he said supportively, popping out the cork.
David rolled his eyes, leaning into Trace's side. "That doesn't help."
"Poor baby," Trace crooned, pouring the wine into two glasses. "How 'bout this?" Strong fingers gently probed the muscles of David's arm and upper back. The blond moaned, his head falling forward as the massage loosened the muscles he unconsciously held tight.
Leaning back into Trace's chest, David turned his head, kissing a line along Trace's jaw. "So, anything this poor cripple can do to help?" he asked, taking a sip of the rich gold liquid.
Humming with the music, Trace bumped their hips together, nudging David toward the stove. "Stir the gumbo. It'll still be another half hour or so," he said. "Do we want anything to go with it besides rice?" he asked as he pulled a bag out of the cabinet.
"Ummm, we-ell.... "David fluttered his eyelashes comically and puckered his lips.
Trace grinned and shook his head as he danced his way back over to David. "Hmmm. I don't know," he fudged. "Here I've been doing all the cooking, and you want dessert first?"
David's eyes widened innocently. "Appetizer?"
Rolling his eyes, Trace kissed David affectionately. "How's that?" he asked, amused. "Don't want to spoil your dinner."
David leaned his head back, closing his eyes and licking his lips like he was savoring a rare delicacy. "You're right," he said, opening his eyes and winking at Trace. "Far too sweet. Must be dessert."
Trace chuckled. "You sweet talker," he accused lightly. "I bet you say that every time you kiss a food critic."
"Yep, every time." David grinned and went back to stirring the pot, brushing Trace as he walked past filling the pot with water and starting the rice. Just that simple contact kept him half-hard and incredibly aroused.
Snorting, Trace stirred unsalted butter into the water. "How many food critics do you know?" he asked, shamelessly fishing.
Looking down into the bubbling liquid as though seriously inspecting the food, David replied evenly, "Just one." Trace smiled down at the rice, and after a few moments, bumped David's hip playfully before impulsively kissing the side of his neck, just below his ear.
Goosebumps climbed up David's neck and down his arms at the light touch. Trace being willing to accept his touch was one thing, but initiating them himself? David shook his head. He had no idea where this was heading, but it sure felt nice. They were so comfortable together and had so much fun. Trace was probably already the best relationship he'd ever had. Lifting a spoonful of gumbo, he blew the steam away and offered it to the man stirring the rice next to him. Trace puckered his lips to blow on the liquid a little more before sliding his lips around the spoon. He sighed happily. "A little more hot sauce, I think," he said, deliberately reaching in front of David and leaning into him to reach the bottle.
Purposefully not moving out of Trace's way, David maximized the drag of their bodies together. Oh, he was getting hungry all right, but he wasn't sure the gumbo was going to help. Trace chuckled as he pulled back and rubbed his knuckles against David's chest for a moment before opening the bottle and adding several shakes to the pot. "There we go. Nice and spicy."
David looked at Trace out of the corner of his eyes. He'd watched Trace flirt for years, but he'd never been the recipient of the attention, and it was doing amazing things to his libido. "Just the way I like it," he rasped.
"Yeah, I figured," Trace drawled, bumping David's hip and rubbing for a few moments as another song started. He hummed along as he sidled down the counter to finish wrapping the bread in foil. He was flirting like crazy, Trace knew. He enjoyed seeing David get flustered over him.
Pulling the spoon out of the pot and laying it on a plate to keep the stovetop clean, David followed down the counter, pressing the front of his body against Trace's back, his fingers curling into the brunet's hips. "If word gets out you can cook, Jackson, I'll be beating them away from the door with a stick," he said, peering over Trace's shoulder at the fresh bread.
Trace chuckled. "Enjoy it while you've got it. I know you: living off takeout Chinese and drive-through crap. Just yet another reason I have to take care of you," he teased, turning his head so he could kiss David's cheek.
"At least the Chinese has vegetables," David defended, sticking out his tongue playfully. His stomach chose that moment to growl. Looking down, he chuckled. "Will it be ready soon? I'm starved."
"Awww," Trace sympathized, rubbing the back of his arm against David's tummy. "Get out some bowls and put the wine on the table. We'll eat dinner. Then we can talk about dessert."
David's body reacted instantly to the potential for double meaning in that statement. A reaction he vigorously quashed, knowing full well Trace wouldn't be offering him the kind of dessert he was really craving and, if he were, they'd be skipping the dinner part altogether. Lifting the bowls down from the cabinet with his left hand one at a time for fear of breaking them, he set the table and poured more wine, carrying their glasses and the bottle to the table one at a time.
Trace gave the gumbo one more good stir, but he was preoccupied by thinking about the man moving around behind him. Actually, preoccupied with the thought of the "dessert" he'd mentioned. More kisses. More touches. The corners of his mouth tilted up. He was looking forward to it.
Eyes riveted on the movie, Trace slid his hand for the popcorn bowl, missing altogether to rub across David's chest as his fingers hit the outer edge, and he paused, laughed, and started feeling around for the popcorn again. It probably would have been easier if he weren't half-draped over David, who was holding the bowl at his side away from Trace.
"Quit groping me. I'm trying to watch the movie," David teased, moving the bowl into easier reach. Truth was, Trace had picked a movie David had seen multiple times, and he was far more interested in watching the emotions crossing Trace's face than the TV screen.
"How did I miss seeing this?" Trace asked, chuckling as the pirate bemoaned the missing rum. "Have you had this all along and I just missed it?" He dug into the popcorn and ate it out of his palm, laying his head to the side against David's shoulder.
David tilted his head toward Trace, resting his cheek against the dark hair. "Yeah, I've had it since it came out. It's great for decompression." He shifted slightly, stretching his arm along the back of the couch.
"It's hysterically funny, is what it is," Trace said, snorting at the pirate's muttered comment about living with the woman. He shifted further on his hip to lie in the hollow against David's body, hand snaking up to steal the bowl of popcorn.
"Hey!" David poked Trace in the side.
"Ack!" Trace twitched and tried to cover his side with the bowl. He picked up a popcorn kernel. "Here," he said, holding it to David's lips.
"Oh no, I'm not so easily bribed," David warned. "If it was chocolate maybe.... "White kernels flew up into the air as David's fingers attacked Trace's sides.
Trace flailed, trying to get away and stop David's hands, not doing too well at either. "No no no, please! Not with the tickling again! Jesus!" Trace squirmed, trying to get away from David.
"Please what?" David asked, looming over Trace and pinning the flailing arms at the wrist above Trace's head.
Trace tilted his head back and offered David a poor-pitiful-me look. "Please stop tickling me," he begged. "It makes me crazy. You know that!"
"Hmmm." David pretended to consider the argument. "What's it worth to you?" he asked, running his fingers up under Trace's T-shirt.
"A kiss?" Trace offered freely. As the days had passed since the poker game, a kiss had become more and more commonplace, yet not at all common in Trace's experience. Each and every one felt special. He wasn't uncomfortable being so close to David anymore; in fact, he'd discovered that David was even better to cuddle with than a woman. He liked being wrapped up in David's arms, and he could also appreciate what David's touch did to his body. Every morning he woke up hard and aching, and every morning the idea of rubbing against David until he came sounded better and better. Trace chewed his bottom lip as he looked at David craftily.
David narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He knew that Trace was becoming comfortable with their kisses, but he still wasn't sure where this was headed. Stopping his fingers' torment, he leaned back on the arm of the couch, stretching one leg out on the cushions, the other resting on the floor. "I'll consider it, but you have to kiss me and I'll be the judge."
Trace scrambled up on his knees on the cushion, looking over at David. "So the kiss has to be good enough or I get tickled again, huh?" he asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He loved this teasing between them. It fed his own natural flirtiness. This was different from their normal hanging out from years past---and better. He scooted closer on his knees toward David.
A smug smile spread over David's face. "That's the idea."
"Hmmph. I've been told I am an excellent kisser, I'll have you know," Trace retorted playfully, shifting until he was as close as he could get without actually lying on top of the other man.
A sharp tug on the brunet's belt loops brought him crashing down on top of David. "So prove it."
Trace caught himself on one hand, but not before their bodies thumped together and his hair tumbled over his shoulder. He hummed in consideration, being challenged, and slowly pressed their lips together. It was a light, caressing motion. Smiling, Trace pressed more firmly, extending his tongue to trace along David's lower lip before he gently sucked that bottom lip between his own. David's lips curved as Trace's caressed them, gasping as the kiss grew more aggressive. Angling his chin, he caught and sucked at Trace's tongue, his legs falling open and arching up as Trace's body settled against his groin. Trace rubbed close, deepening the kiss into a hot, passionate mesh of lips and tongues. He raised one hand to delve into David's hair and hold him in place.
One of David's hands ran over the swell of Trace's ass and higher, slipping under the soft shirt and kneading the muscles of the broad back. Trace put all his effort into the kiss, groaning as he felt David's hands on him and his body's reaction. It happened faster every time. Sometimes David just had to look at him with that glint in his eyes and Trace's pulse sped. Dragging his lips away from Trace's, David buried his face against the brunet's neck, trying to calm his racing heart. Every time they touched, it got worse, harder to stop. David didn't want to pressure Trace. He was always excruciatingly aware that this was Trace's first time trying for a relationship with a man that was more than simple friendship, and he didn't want to do anything that would damage that friendship. It would be one thing if Trace wasn't as affected as David was, but he was. David could feel the hard length of the other man's erection pressing against him. Unable to stop himself, he arched up against the swollen shaft.
Head tipping back, Trace gasped as he felt David's thigh slide hard against him---against his now-hard cock---and his eyes rolled back in his head. "Jesus," he whispered starkly, and he shuddered as he shifted his hips to tentatively push back. "David, oh God...."
David's stomach flipped, a shiver traveling up his spine, his nipples hardening into tight peaks. How did you resist when the man of your dreams was lying in your arms making delicious needy noises? He gripped the back of Trace's head with one hand and his hip with the other, holding him close but still. His lips grazing Trace's ear, he rasped, "If we're stopping, we need to do it right now. If we don't, I'm going to make you come. My hands. My mouth. I don't care...."
Every night for two weeks Trace had gone to sleep thinking about David touching him---gently as they kissed, playfully as they tussled, distractedly as they worked, and passionately, at times like this. The idea was more than firmly set in his mind, and Trace was so turned on because the idea of David's hands, David's mouth on him made his head spin. "Please, David," he asked, lips grazing David's cheek as he pulled his head up to meet his eyes. Trace wanted the other man to know that he really wanted this. "Don't stop."
With a throaty groan, David's mouth crashed into Trace's, all gentleness gone from his kiss. This was claiming, possession, passion in its most elemental form. David's hips ground up again, his legs spreading wider, cradling Trace against the intimate juncture of his body. Trace felt swept under with David's kiss, swept off his feet, swept along with the wild current. He didn't want anything different. He gave as good as he got, arms curling around David best he could as he moved against David's hips. The hard muscle of his thighs and the hard cock covered by denim were equally enflaming. David was as turned on as he was. Trace gasped against David's mouth and for the first time pushed himself hard against David to get more stimulation, choking out a soft cry as pleasure burned through him. Dear God. They were making out on the fucking couch, and he was about to go up in flames.
Thoughts of flipping Trace beneath him, sitting him up and slipping to the floor between his knees danced on the periphery of David's consciousness, but he couldn't make himself stop the wild rush of erotic need that was building between them. His body undulated under Trace's, a perfect counterpoint to the other man's thrusts, their rock-hard shafts rubbing along each other with every pass. The thoughts of feeling the warm, velvet heat of Trace's cock in his hand or the taste of his come on the back of his tongue only fueled the fire burning in his balls.
Moaning softly, Trace felt everything in him start to tighten so quickly that he was amazed; he had so much more control than this. But that all went out the window with David. Trace rocked harder, a soft whimper escaping as he bit down hard on his bottom lip. Almost. He was going to get off by rutting against his best friend. The thought struck through him like a shot of lightning, and suddenly he was that much closer to coming. "David," he whispered helplessly, pleading.
David's hand closed over the flexing muscles of Trace's ass, grinding them together forcibly, but it still wasn't enough. He wanted closer, harder, more! He could feel Trace trembling in his arms. "God," he ground out next to Trace's ear, panting. "So fuckin' close. Just touching you. Want to make you come, want to feel you come against me."
The words combined with David's hands on him pushed Trace to the very edge. He thrust against David harder than before, his pelvis rubbing constantly over David's length, each measure of its length and breadth drawing a gasp out of him. Trace released a low, tortured cry as he lost himself to it, just moving mindlessly, caught on the cusp of orgasm. He was shaking with it.
Writhing under Trace, David wanted to come, needed to come. His balls ached with it. "God! Oh, fuck.... Trace! Make me come. Make me come, baby," he babbled. "Harder.... God, like that. Fuck me!"
The pleading in David's voice broke any last reservations in Trace, and he shoved against David's groin, once and again and again. His breaths were harsh as his hands clenched hard, and then he froze in place for bare seconds before throwing his head back and crying out as he jerked against David unevenly, shuddering into orgasm. "David! Oh fuck, David!"
The tenor of Trace's voice reverberated straight to David's cock. He groaned, thrusting up and feeling Trace's cock jerk and release even through two layers of denim. "Trace!" he cried, biting the brunet's neck as his hips bowed off the cushions into the heavy weight of Trace's body.
David's climax rushed from his body, stealing his ability to breathe. The room was spinning, the edges of his vision going gray when he finally managed to inhale a gasping gulp of oxygen. "Fuck, that was intense. Having you actually fuck me might be deadly," David murmured sleepily. Every ounce of energy had left his body with his orgasm, and he was hanging in a state of suspended, sated, bliss.
Beyond caring about lying against David in wet, sticky jeans, Trace half-moaned, half-laughed, and turned his flushing face against David's chest. "I think I need to recover first," he murmured. "I'm stayin' right here," he added drowsily.
"We could do that," David drawled, "but a shower and our clean bed would feel really good. I'd even promise to make sure you get nice and clean."
Trace chuckled. "Sounds like an excuse to get your hands on my naked ass." The smile on his face was clear. "But I suppose," he drew out, "that wouldn't be such a bad thing." Trace crossed his hands on David's chest and set his chin down on them, meeting David's eyes evenly. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "I didn't expect it to be so good," he admitted. He lifted his fingers and lightly traced along David's mouth. "I should have. You take care of me."
David brushed the compliment away, not quite comfortable with the intensity of what he was feeling. "I think you've got that backward. You're the one that's been playing valet and chief cook and bottle washer." His eyes skittered toward the TV just in time to catch the protagonists gazing at each other during a quiet moment. David had given up on finding happily ever after a long time ago, but Trace had him wishing again. That could be dangerous.
The change in David's tone nagged at Trace, and he shifted uncomfortably. If it were a woman saying those words, he'd think she was either embarrassed or regretful. He hoped that wasn't the case. He'd gotten swept up in the moment, for sure, but he didn't regret it. He would only regret it if it caused a rift between them. "Okay," he said softly, pushing himself up and scooting back, away from David, watching him carefully.
David felt Trace's withdrawal and unease more than he heard it and immediately made eye contact. He knew that his growing feelings for Trace showed in his eyes---Matt had even commented on it---but he'd been careful to try to school his expression when Trace was actually looking, for fear of making him uncomfortable. His barriers low from the intimacy of the moment, he put everything he was feeling out for Trace to see. Reaching up, he stroked his fingers along Trace's jaw. "I'd like to take care of you, though. Will you let me?"
Turning his cheek into David's hand, Trace's eyes fluttered a little as he felt relief settle through him. David's eyes---they were so intense when focused on him. It made him feel like the center of David's world. Trace had taken care of David without any thought of wanting something in return, but this? This was a step further into what was turning into something more than close friendship. Trace wanted it. When he spoke, there was more warmth in his voice. "Okay."
Silently, David stood and took Trace's hand. Walking into the bathroom, he flipped on the knobs, letting the water warm and turning back to Trace. His hands played with the hem of Trace's shirt, letting his fingers brush the sensitive skin before lifting it over his head. His hands explored the smooth skin stretched over hard muscle, his mouth dipping to taste one of the dusky pink nipples.
Trace sighed and slid his hand over David's good shoulder, careful not to jar the other. Though it was well on its way to healing, he didn't want to hurt him. Unconsciously, he shifted to press up against David's mouth as his eyes fell shut. Wow.
With the unspoken encouragement, David opened his lips and sucked the tiny nub into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. Trace made a sound of pleasure deep in his throat, shifting his hand to curl into David's hair. His other hand wrapped around David's waist. "Cleaning me up?" he asked faintly, though he didn't object.
"Just getting started," David rasped, sinking to his knees and pulling at Trace's jeans one-handed. Trace's hands rose to help, but he batted them away. "I'm taking care of you, remember? You can help me take mine off in a minute---the angle's much worse." His tongue trailed the line of soft hair down the center of Trace's abdomen, plunging into his belly button playfully. Trace's eyes got bigger as David's mouth went lower. Was he really going to...? Trace's cock reacted by pulsing with heat and starting to harden again. He bit his bottom lip against a whimper.
David grazed his teeth against the hardening ridge, humming his pleasure at Trace's reaction. He desperately wanted to strip the man naked and lick and suck him clean and then some, but he was afraid Trace might not be ready for that yet. Getting to his feet, he pushed the denim past Trace's hips, adjusting the temperature of the water as the brunet stepped out of his jeans and boxers. Taking Trace's hands, he lifted them to his chest. "Undress me," he whispered.
Trace swallowed hard at the temptation of David's mouth on his body, regaining his equilibrium when David didn't go ahead. That would have been mind-blowing, Trace was sure, but he wasn't sure how he would react afterward. Embarrassed, most likely, because he was sure he'd balk at returning the favor. He reached for the button on David's jeans, sliding his fingers inside the waistband to pull it apart and then lower the zipper. This he could do: easy touching. He wouldn't have hesitated to stroke a woman at this point. He rubbed his knuckles against David's swollen flesh.
Unable to bite back the groan prompted by Trace's touch, David leaned heavily against the wall, his knees shaking. Even the simplest of touches from Trace affected him more than the blatant sexual overtures from his past partners. Wrapping his fingers in the long dark hair, he pulled Trace close for a kiss. Sighing against David's lips, Trace slid his hands over David's hips to push the jeans down, then the warmed cotton underneath, down to his thighs where David could reach. He was faintly nervous about stepping forward. He'd lain all over David with them clothed. How would it feel with just heated skin? He wasn't shy, but....
David shook loose of his jeans, his hand coming forward to rest on Trace's bare hip, the pad of his thumb brushing the hollow in lazy circles. The kiss continued at a slow and easy pace that belied the pounding of the blood in his ears and various other parts of his body. Reassured, Trace slowly relaxed, slightly humming against David's lips in approval.
"Let's get in the shower," David urged. Before I suggest we skip it all together and just go to bed, he continued silently.
Trace opened his eyes and nodded, turning to push open the glass doors and step into the water. David's eyes lingered on the broad tan back tapering down to narrow hips and the paler skin of Trace's ass. Stepping into the shower, he ran his hand over the lighter skin, cupping the lower curve and squeezing. Trace couldn't help but grin at the back wall. David was groping his ass. He reached up to change the shower massage setting to more of a gentle rain than the driving water now shooting out.
Trace had stopped under the water, but David kept moving forward until the front of his body was pressed to the back of Trace's. Reaching around him with both arms, David grabbed the soap and a wash cloth. Lathering the cloth, he set to work, running it up and down Trace's chest as his lips trailed across Trace's shoulder and up his neck. Shifting his weight, Trace simply relaxed back against David. It wasn't all that different from having clothes on, feeling David's hard, muscled body against him, feeling David's cock rubbing against him. Despite the warm water, he shivered as warm lips coasted across his skin, and he reached out to touch the tiled wall beside him.
"Turn," David suggested as his hand guided Trace to stand with his back against the tile. Starting with his arms, David carefully washed every inch of Trace's skin from his shoulders to his hands. Lifting the clean fingers to his mouth, he sucked at the water dropping from their tips, his eyes never leaving Trace's.
Trace knew he had been right. He was being seduced, and he was loving it. He lifted his other hand to touch David's lips with his fingers. This was getting so erotic he was afraid he wouldn't be able to see straight. His body slowly reacted, recovering from before and getting really interested again. David's touch spread like fire. It was addictive. Trace wanted more, and he tilted his hips to rub his cock lightly against David's thigh.
David's hands, one covered in a washcloth and one bare, skated up through the slippery suds, over Trace's shoulders and down the hard planes of his chest, circling his nipples. He sank to his knees as he moved the washcloth lower on the brunet's body. Taking his time, he washed Trace's swelling length until it stood out proud and erect from his body. Moving the soapy washcloth between Trace's legs, David rolled the tender sac in his hand as he let the running water rinse the rest of him clean. Just like he had with Trace's fingers, David's tongue reached out and lapped at the drops of water running down Trace's cock, blue eyes turned up and burning with hunger.
Already groaning with pleasure, Trace had leaned his head back against the wall and watched the cloth move over his body. He tried to control how rapidly he was breathing, but any thought of control was shredded when he saw David lean forward and extend his tongue to slide lightly along his sensitive, aching cock. He choked on David's name, and both hands flew to bury themselves in David's hair turned dark by the water. There was so much he wanted to gasp out, but it all sounded dirty in his head, and he didn't want it to be that way. Trace just whispered, "Please," with passion burning in his eyes.
Letting the satiny head stroke his lips, David hummed, licked, and sucked Trace's cock from tip to base. Dragging his tongue up the underside in a long, slow swipe, he flicked it rapidly at the juncture of the crown, sucking the length into his mouth when Trace's hips bucked forward. Soap-slick fingers continued to explore and play with the heavy sac and all sensitive skin they could reach.
"Oh sweet, sweet baby," Trace breathed as he just slightly pushed in and pulled out of David's mouth. He was afraid to do more---both because he'd never done this with David before, and because he was practically on the edge of coming already because it was happening at all.
David grinned at Trace's instinctive movements. The brunet was no blushing little girl, even if it was his first time with a man. It was time to show Trace what making love with a man could be like. Using his good arm, he cupped Trace's ass, pulling him forward with a hard, fast rhythm. Relaxing into the feel of Trace sliding across his tongue, the unique flavor flooding his mouth, David swallowed until Trace's cock was moving past his lips and down his throat with each stroke.
"Oh fuck," Trace swore as his fingers grasped about David's skull and his hips started snapping forward. It was too, too incredible to resist, and Trace couldn't stop. Dimly he had the thought that he'd never been able to fuck a woman's mouth like this; the couple times he'd tried hadn't gone well. But not only was it going well, David was driving it, encouraging it.
Trace's uninhibited response was incredibly arousing. Reaching between his own legs David formed a loose fist around his cock, pistoning his hips forward into the channel.
"Shit. David..." Trace gasped out, feeling his balls draw up hard as he tingled all over. "David," he mewled, turning his face up into the water. He'd been afraid of this, though he couldn't for the life of him remember why.
Pulling back long enough to speak, David moved his hand from Trace's ass to his cock to continue the insistent pace. "Come for me, Trace," he rasped, his abused lips swollen and red. "Let me taste you." His fingers curled back around the swell of the tight ass, the tips grazing the deep cleft. One step at a time, Carmichael, he chided himself. On another day, he'd show Trace the wonders of pressure on his prostate. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't.... His hand stroked down his own cock, already ready to burst, cradled his balls, and probed a single finger against his own entrance. It'd been so long since he'd been fucked. He whimpered.
David's hand on his ass didn't even register as the pleasure bubbled over inside Trace, and he started to shake. Knowing it was important, Trace pried open his eyes to look down at David. The sight hit him like a ton of bricks. David's hand pumping his cock as his lips whispered over the swollen head of Trace's cock, his eyes closed and face contorted with what looked like bliss, his other hand was down between his own legs, moving. Trace had an image of what he must be doing and just like that, he snapped and growled as he slammed into an intense orgasm, keeping glazed eyes on David the whole time.
Trace looking down at him as his entire body shuddered in climax was one of the most erotic sights he'd ever experienced. David swallowed repeatedly, suckling and licking the pulsing length as Trace continued slow, shallow thrusts into his mouth. His own peak was really only a touch away, the steady, circling pressure he'd been teasing his prostate with keeping him just on the verge. Letting Trace slip from his mouth, David looked up, moving his good hand to his cock. "Watch me," he rasped. "Watch what you do to me."
Eyes clouded with satiation and heat, Trace sagged against the tile to keep his balance as he kept watching David. If he could get hard again, he would, Trace thought a bit wildly as he lifted a shaking hand to wipe the water from his face. Just seeing David lick and lap up his come.... He twitched as another flash of heat tore through him. "Do it," he said hoarsely. "I want to see."
Several tight strokes and David was coming, crying out Trace's name before he collapsed forward, his forehead coming to rest on Trace's thigh. His body clenched around his fingers, increasing the intensity of his climax. "Oh, fuck. Trace!" His breath hitched, trying to establish a rhythm. "Damn. Damn," he panted, letting the cooling water carry away the traces of his climax.
Trace petted David's hair, his shoulder, his back, the side of his face. He could feel the hot exhalation of breath on his thigh. He was amazed they could wring these types of reactions from each other. Leaning just enough to the side, he shut off the shower. He groaned as he straightened and slid a little against the wall. "I'm not sure my legs want to hold me up anymore," he murmured, fingers still stroking David gently.
"Yeah, one of the advantages of being the one on your knees," David said cheekily, attempting to get to his feet.
Snorting, Trace looked down at David. "So how are you going to get up off the shower floor?" he asked, eyes twinkling. It was a very nice view from his vantage point. Damn, but David was a fine-looking man.
"My friend with the shaky knees is going to give me a hand," David said, reaching up with his good arm.
Trace grinned and leaned down a bit to grasp David's arm and help him stand, and when they both shifted to regain balance, they ended up right against each other. Thinking about it for only a couple heartbeats, Trace leaned to brush his lips against David's.
David grinned against Trace's mouth, sucking the moisture off his lips. "You taste as good up here as you did down there. I should take showers with you more often." Pushing open the door, he stepped out, yanking a towel off the bar and tossing it backward at Trace. "Let's get dry and go lay down. I'm getting cold, and the clean sheets I saw you putting on the bed earlier are calling me."
The intimate words still threw Trace for a loop, but he liked them and the way they made him feel. He caught the towel and started drying off. After the past hour, he was wiped out as well. He wanted to say how much he had enjoyed their shower, but he was a little edgy about how David might react. The other man hadn't been comfortable with Trace's compliment when they were on the couch, though Trace didn't understand why. Instead, he hung up the towel and kissed David's cheek as he walked by to go out to the bedroom.
The blond watched him walk past, biting his lip. There were so many things he wanted to say to Trace, but he just didn't think the other man was ready to hear them yet, if ever. No; he was happy having a friend this special and would enjoy the special privileges that seemed to be developing as long as they lasted. Walking toward the bed, he didn't bother with boxers or pajamas, sliding between the sheets, moving his legs over the cool, crisp cotton. "Mmmm," he hummed sleepily, automatically scooting toward Trace's warmth. Of all the things he would miss when Trace went home, the cuddling would be missed most.
Trace always started out on his side when he slept, though invariably he ended up on his belly half-across David. He shifted his arm to let David scoot over close and then hugged him as he yawned sleepily. "'Night," he murmured, warm, sated, drowsy and comfortable. Even the fact that this was the first time they'd slept together nude didn't faze him. His fingers stroked David's shoulder erratically.
"Night," David mumbled back, burrowing into Trace's chest. Best pillow he'd ever had. He drifted to sleep with his lips curved in a sated smile.
When Trace blinked awake before dawn, he knew he had a problem.
He was half on his side, half on his belly, curled over David's side, his arm pulling the other man close, his head tucked into the curve of David's shoulder. Carefully he sat up, looking down at the other man in the dim light. Asleep, David looked younger---not that he was old, that little voice in Trace's mind insisted. The lines on his face softened, his lips a little fuller with warmth. Feeling swelled in Trace's chest and groin, the heat of growing passion warring with something stronger but quieter, a reflection of the strength of their friendship layered with growing affection.
It was the desire that niggled at him. Trace climbed slowly out of the bed, checking that he didn't wake David up. He grabbed shorts and a T-shirt and left the room, pulling the door closed. Slipping into the clothes, he headed for the kitchen and got a Coke out of the fridge. Sitting at the table, he pulled one leg up to brace his foot in front of him so he could prop his chin on his knee.
Their relationship was changing, and Trace had to admit he was scared. Scared and confused, enough that it had tinged his usually pleasant dreams with enough uncertainty that he was now wide awake and worrying over it. He took a drink and held the cold can to his forehead. Last night had been incredible. The flaming hot pawing and kissing and touching and explosive orgasms---Trace hadn't felt so satisfied after sex in a long, long time. Except now, he wanted more of it. More of it with David. And what would that mean to them?
Trace wasn't so concerned about the bisexual label; he was comfortable with himself and he was comfortable with sex in general. He was more concerned that what he had with David would flare and soon burn out, leaving them too uncomfortable to even be friends anymore. The thought made his chest hurt so badly that he couldn't sit still and he had to get up and pace, trying to shake the pain off. He didn't want that, not at all. He'd rather give up the newfound passion than have that happen.
After a few minutes of moving he stopped at the sink to look out at the pinkish light starting to brighten over the backyard. What was he going to do? Sighing, he set the can in the sink and headed back to the bedroom. He stripped down, seeing no point in wearing the clothes to bed. Besides, he wanted the comfort of David's warm body against his. He slid under the sheet and scooted until he could wrap around the other man. After a few minutes, Trace was relaxed and warm and content. That had to mean something, he thought. Just being close to David made everything okay.
David shifted back into the heat of Trace's body unconsciously, murmuring a sleepy, "Mornin'." He kept his eyes closed, really wanting to stay asleep, but it just wasn't in his nature. As soon as he was awake, his mind started working, and this morning it seemed fixated on the feeling of Trace crawling back into bed. Rolling over and resting his head on Trace's arm, he asked, "Where've you been so early?"
Shifting to allow David to move, Trace opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the other man's face. "Just to the kitchen for something to drink," he said honestly. He lifted his hand and gently slid his fingers through David's soft hair where it lay mussed above his ear.
"Mmm," David hummed, closing his eyes to lose himself in the feeling of Trace's touch. "Did you start coffee?" he asked hopefully.
Trace's lips quirked. "Sorry. I was hoping I wouldn't wake you up. We were up late last night. This morning," he corrected. He kissed David's forehead lightly.
"Yeah, but I'm not complaining." Reaching up to run his fingers through Trace's hair, David rolled his body close again. "We okay?" he asked, voice hesitant. Last night had been magnificent, but Trace's friendship was far more important than any sex, no matter how mind-blowing.
"I think so," Trace murmured. "I'm just ... worried, I guess." His fingers slid down to trace the line of David's jaw. "Don't want to lose you or this. I'm just not sure how it's going to work."
"I could show you some instructional videos," David teased, rocking his body against Trace's hip. His eyes grew serious. "You aren't going to lose me, but maybe we need to talk about what we're doing. If we are going to be serious though, I need coffee."
"Okay," Trace said softly. "You're very important to me, you know that? My closest friend. Never saw it coming that you might be my lover as well."
"Serious." David sat up, dropping a kiss on Trace's nose. "Coffee." He pushed himself off the bed and padded naked to the kitchen, throwing back over his shoulder, "And I do know that."
Trace couldn't hold back the smile that pulled at his lips. Damn, he was a lucky man. Shaking his head, he climbed out of bed and climbed back into his shorts and T-shirt, then pulled out some for David as well. Having him unclothed within reach would be distracting as hell. And he wanted this conversation to go well. "I brought you these, you exhibitionist," Trace teased as he entered the kitchen.
David caught the clothes automatically. "Damn. I was hoping to influence you with my stunning physique," he chuckled as he pulled on the shorts but left the shirt on the counter. Turning back to the coffeemaker, he carefully measured the water and freshly ground beans.
Standing next to David until he'd finished measuring, Trace leaned to kiss his shoulder. "I don't need any convincing," he murmured, sliding his hand along David's ass before going to the cabinet to pull out two mugs.
A wake of tingles followed Trace's hand, swirling into David's groin and causing his cock to swell. Damn, that man was potent, David thought, his eyes tracking Trace and watching the flex of muscles in his back and shoulders as he reached for the mugs. "If you don't need convincing, what do we need to talk about?"
Trace's movements slowed as he lowered the mugs to the countertop. When he turned, his face was serious. "If this doesn't work, or if it burns out, I don't want to lose you. I know how awkward a breakup is in a physical relationship. If it was us, it would tear me to pieces."
David moved closer as the smell of brewing coffee filled the room, just the scent clearing his head. "So we work to make sure that doesn't happen." Raising his hand, he placed it flat on Trace's chest. "Where do you see this going?"
Covering David's hand with his own, Trace searched his face. "As far as we want to take it," he said honestly, holding David's eyes with his own. "It probably sounds unbelievable, but I fit better with you than anyone else. And I'm not even talking about sex."
David's hand turned over, his fingers threading between Trace's. "We do seem to fit pretty well, don't we?" he mused, staring down at their joined hands. "I've never been as comfortable with someone as I am with you, but.... "He paused, trying to find the right words. Trace had never shown any inclination toward men, and David already cared too much about him to be okay with this being a casual experiment. "Are you sure this is what you want? We can be friends. We can even be closer friends than we were before without adding the physical stuff. With someone else, I might be able to handle a little curious experimentation, but if we continue to kiss and touch, I'm going to fall for you." David fingers brushed Trace's cheek. He didn't add that he'd probably already fallen and if Trace walked away now, it was going to hurt like hell.
Trace's eyes half-closed as he turned his cheek toward David's fingers, rubbing against them longingly. Everything in him was yelling that this was so right. He'd never felt that before, with a woman or man. He ached with the rightness of it. Maybe that was why it scared him. He'd never seriously considered making a commitment of any kind to anyone. But he wanted nothing less with David. He wanted to make this last. "I want this," Trace said fervently. "I do."
The tight knot in David's chest released as he let go of the breath that he'd been holding, waiting for Trace's answer. Running his hand along Trace's side, he curled his fingers into the loose T-shirt and pulled Trace closer. "Want this?" He nuzzled Trace's neck. "Or want me? I need to hear you say that not just any man could make you feel this way." He could feel Trace's cock growing against him.
Trace slid his arm around David's waist as he pressed close. "Want you," he said seriously. "David, no one's made me feel this way. No woman. Certainly no man. It's just you. I understand where you're coming from with the falling thing. I've never wanted to spend more than a few nights with anyone. They just didn't hold my interest. You had it before we even starting exploring each other."
"And this is pretty incredible," David added, nudging at Trace's chin and rubbing their cheeks together. "Try this with me?"
Smiling, Trace nodded and turned his chin to kiss the corner of David's mouth. "Not going to try. I'm going to do. With you," he said quietly.
A warm glow like good scotch spread through David's belly. "Yes," he murmured against Trace's cheek. Sucking the full bottom lip, he cupped the back of Trace's head, pressing their mouths together and teasing the seam with his tongue.
Trace hummed contentedly and relaxed against David, opening his lips and joining the leisurely kiss. He'd so grown to adore David's kisses. He couldn't imagine a day now without at least three or four. Insane, he knew. Certifiable. But damn.... He shifted closer and pressed his groin against David's thigh as he curled one arm about David's neck and the other around his waist.
"Why did we get out of bed?" David asked, trailing kisses down Trace's neck.
"You wanted to talk," Trace murmured as he let his head fall back, exposing his throat to David's lips.
"I did?" David groaned, accepting the offer of more skin with his lips and teeth. "I must be a fuckin' idiot. Talking is highly overrated."
"It really is too damn early to be out of bed," Trace agreed, voice faint as he shifted against David some more.
A low rumble resembling a warning growl rose from David's chest as his hands clamped onto Trace's hips, stilling the movement, but not pushing his away. "Keep that up, and we won't make it back to bed."
Trace sighed ruefully. "I am sleepy, though. Come on. You can keep me warm. At least 'til I fall back asleep. Please? Pretty please?" he wheedled, knowing how much David hated going back to bed in the mornings.
Stilling, David framed Trace's face with his fingers, staring deeply into his eyes. "I think I'd like that."
"Yeah?" Trace said, brown eyes brightening. "Good, 'cause my toes are cold," he said with a grin.
"Yeah." David took Trace's hand, leading him back to the bedroom. Crawling onto the bed, he laid back on the pillows, pulling Trace close to his side. "I might just have to reconsider the whole 'sleeping in' thing if it feels this good," he mumbled, closing his eyes to just enjoy the feel of the other man against his bare chest.
"Mmmm," Trace purred sleepily, already cozy and lying half on top of David, his actually quite-cold toes slid under David's calves. "Sleep now. Reconsider later," he mumbled, rubbing his cheek against David's shoulder. He still slept on the same side---the good side. It was easy to drift off now, knowing they were going to be okay.
It had been six and a half weeks, and Trace thought of the time past in three two-week blocks: the two weeks of being closer friends than ever; the two weeks of dancing around each other, exploring, testing the waters; and then two weeks of doing, of kissing and touching and cuddling and David constantly blowing Trace's mind. Those sorts of memories he tended to zone out over. Trace startled a little when the door opened. When David walked back out into the waiting room, he stood up and raised an eyebrow, waiting for the news.
"Good as new. No lifting heavy weight for a few more weeks, but I can resume normal activities." David waggled his eyebrows with an exaggerated leer.
Trace blinked and bit his bottom lip on a laugh. He still got caught off guard by David's teasing. He didn't mind so much, other than more than half the time he flushed in response. Some experienced man he was. "No heavy weight, huh? Guess that leaves me out then," he answered as they walked out of the building.
"Yeah, guess you'll have to top," David teased, swatting Trace on the ass as he jogged toward the car to stay out of reach. It was a beautiful day, and he'd been let off his leash. He felt like flying---or flirting with Trace, which felt like flying.
Eyes widening, Trace choked on a laugh and chased David to the car. Crashing into the side of the convertible panting with laughter, David turned just as Trace reached him. "You're a funny guy," Trace said, finally catching David against the side panel and gently pushing him against the car, one hand on each side of his waist.
"I'd rather have you think me irresistible," David said, tilting his head and nuzzling Trace's cheek.
Trace sighed and stayed close for a long moment before pulling back. "You have no idea, do you?" he murmured. He was tempted to kiss David right there in the open, where anyone could walk by. So tempted. Being this close to David was all it took to arouse him. "Come on. Time to get you home. Got to think about what you'll do now that you have to go back to work every day," he teased.
"You really know how to rain on a guy's good mood," David groused, walking around to the passenger side of the car. "Don't get my kiss and I get reminded that I have to go back and put up with the putzes in the newsroom," he muttered as he climbed into the car, fastening his seat belt.
Trace smiled fondly as he got in the driver's seat. He reached over to slide one finger under David's chin, turned it slightly toward him, and pressed a gentle kiss to David's lips. "Does that help?" he asked. David's eyes closed as he lifted up into the light touch, claiming a real kiss. Lifting his newly released hand to the soft dark hair, he held Trace close, plundering the sweet mouth, sucking at the full lips and swallowing the soft moans escaping from both of them.
Dizzy from just these few kisses, Trace hummed faintly as David took his mouth, freely given. God, Trace wanted to give him so much. He'd be totally calm and under control and one touch from David would have him flushed and panting. His hand dropped to curl over David's shoulder.
Reluctantly, David pulled his mouth away, letting their cheeks press together, Trace's warm moist breath tickling his ear. "That helped, but it isn't near enough. How fast can you get us home? I'm in the mood to celebrate my release by doing all sorts of things that involve my right hand and your naked body."
Trace literally whimpered. "I have a meeting at the office in half an hour," he murmured, voice aching.
"Then I guess I'll just have to touch you while you drive," David purred, cupping Trace's erection through his trousers and squeezing.
"Christ," Trace whispered as he started the car with a fierce grin. "Don't let me kill us, okay?"
"You concentrate on driving. I'll concentrate on you," David said, his fingernails scraping up the long inseam of Trace's pants.
Trace gritted his teeth and put the car into reverse, got out of the parking lot and onto the road. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Jesus, David, what the fuck are you doing to me?" he asked as he squirmed a little under the other man's hand.
"Oh, come on," David teased with his voice as his hands slipped inside Trace's fly, palming his hot erection. Leaning close to get a better angle, David worked the hard length until the head glistened with beads of fluid. "You can't tell me you've never had someone go down on you in a car."
"Not while I was driving, no!" Trace retorted, lifting his hips a little into David's hand.
"Just don't run off the road, and easy on the gas," David directed as his head dropped into Trace's lap, his tongue finding the edge of the swollen head and tracing the rim.
Trace cried out softly and let off the gas pedal as he drove down the mostly empty city street. He lowered one hand to curl into David's hair. "Oh baby," he whispered, making himself stare at the road. Normally this wouldn't have him so crazy so quickly. But in the car while driving? David's mouth made it amazing.
Aware that they were operating under a timeline, David played dirty. Sucking the shaft into his mouth, he played the ultrasensitive spot on the underside with his tongue. Pulling Trace even deeper, he hummed and groaned his pleasure, his own hand kneading the bulge in his jeans to release the pressure.
Cursing under his breath, Trace turned onto a busy city street and bit his bottom lip as he forced himself to concentrate. Three blocks, four, five.... "Fuck, David," he hissed as he made the turn onto the quiet street that led into David's subdivision.
David just purred deep in his throat, swallowing around Trace's shaft. Nose buried deep in the musky-smelling curls, he slipped his hand into the loose fabric and cupped the soft sacs, rolling them gently as he lifted his head and sank back down until Trace was sheathed in his throat.
Trace stopped the car in the driveway with a growl, throwing it into park and grabbing David's head with both hands. "David!" he bit out. "Wanna move.... "Unwilling to release Trace even long enough to speak, David encouraged him with sound and action. He loved making Trace lose control; to him nothing was sexier. Head falling back against the seat, Trace moaned and jutted his hips up, thrusting into David's mouth and throat, feeling it work him all the way down. "Fuck, your gorgeous mouth drives me insane," he breathed, fingers curling in David's hair, panting hard.
David's nipples tightened into hard aching peaks, his cock thrumming to the same pulse as his heart. Sucking and stroking, he lavished attention on Trace.
Trace was swiftly losing control. "David, David," he moaned, forcing himself to look down at where his cock disappeared into David's mouth. "Oh fuck," he hissed as his groin seized up and he started to tense. "Gonna ... gonna...."
David's fingers found the arch of flesh just behind Trace's balls and pressed. Trace's eyes flew open and a yell ripped from him as the sensation crashed through him, throwing him into a wild climax that had him clenching and pulsing into David's mouth. Savoring the taste of Trace on his tongue like a fine wine, David milked the spasming length until it was completely soft, fitting easily inside his mouth. He continued to gently tongue the sated length until Trace's twitching told him it was too much. Reluctantly, he let it slip from his mouth, resting his head on Trace's thigh.
A shaky hand covered Trace's eyes, the elbow propped against the window, as he tried to pull an even breath. "What the hell did you do to me?" he asked, his voice thick with satiation and a spark of surprise.
"Nothing you don't do to me," David replied, his voice rough with desire.
Trace laughed a bit desperately. "I'm fairly sure I've never done what you did. Jesus, you took the top of my head off, lover," he said as he relaxed back into the seat. "We should go in so I can return the favor." A playful smile curved his lips.
"Thought you had to go to work," David reminded gently.
Groaning, Trace covered his eyes again. "Shit," he muttered. "Yeah." He moved his hand and looked down at David's flushed face. He trailed a finger along the other man's lips. "I'll make it up to you. Promise."
"I'll hold you to that." David grinned, sitting up and kissing Trace chastely, unsure of how the brunet felt about tasting his own release.
But Trace ran his tongue along David's lips and growled slightly. "I can taste myself on you. If that won't make a man hard fast, I don't know what will." He sighed, pulled back, and did up his pants. "I've got to go," he said apologetically.
Trace's reaction to the kiss wound David up more than the blow job had. Straightening in his seat, he reached for the door. "I'll see you tonight," he said, pulling on the lever and unfolding his body from the low sports car. Adjusting himself with the heel of his hand, he silently gave thanks that his arm was healed. It was about to get a workout.
Watching David walk into the house, Trace licked his lips again and glanced at himself in the rearview mirror. God damn. He was flushed, his eyes were dilated, and he looked well-sated. Hell. He was about as close as he was getting lately. He threw the car into gear and got on the road. The sooner he got through the damn meeting, the sooner he'd be back home. It was on the drive to the office that the chilling thought occurred to Trace. David was all better now. He didn't need Trace to live at his house and take care of him anymore.
David hummed happily, setting the casserole dish on the stove, ready for the oven. He'd cheated and bought a tray of manicotti from his favorite Italian restaurant, but when it came to cooking, he figured the end justified the means. After Trace had dropped him off, he'd run a few errands, reveling in his newfound freedom: a quick stop at the office, the cleaners, and the liquor store. As good as it felt to be self-sufficient, he couldn't quit thinking about Trace coming home.
Stopping in the driveway, parking next to David as he'd gotten used to, Trace was still troubled, in some ways. He was very happy that David was healed up and could do for himself now, more for David's peace of mind than anything.
But now that Trace had no real reason to stay, he felt like he should go to his own apartment. Surely David would want his life back to normal, although Trace didn't see them drifting apart. No, he thought with a smile, they were far too interested in each other for that. He sighed and grabbed the suit bag from the cleaners and headed up the steps. He'd be able to put his other clothes in it along with the clean ones.
Hearing the door open, David called out, "I'm in the kitchen!"
"'kay!" Trace answered, heading back to the office to hang up the dry cleaning. While there, he looked at the moderate amount of clean clothes---his---that had started stacking up on the shelves in the closet, courtesy of David's laundry. More of his clothes were here than at the apartment now. He'd have to get a suitcase to get them all home. Standing there, he started gnawing at the side of his thumb.
"Did you get lost?" David asked from the doorway, watching as Trace stared into the closet. Walking up behind him, he wrapped his arms around the slender waist, propping his chin on Trace's shoulder. "You should have told me you had laundry. I was just there an hour ago. I could have brought it home for you."
"If you remember," Trace said, covering David's hands with his own, "I was more than a little distracted when I brought you home." He turned his chin to kiss David's temple. "I was just looking at all my clothes that have piled up. I'll need a big bag to get them home again. Then you can start filling this closet back up with all that junk you took out to make room for me," he said, poking fun at David's pack-rat habits.
David's hand had been heading down Trace's stomach to continue where he'd left off earlier when the comment about going home stopped him. He'd been so happy about being released to do all the things he wanted to do that he hadn't considered the other implications of the diagnosis. "Uhmmm, yeah." He stepped back, turning away from the closet, his stomach fluttering in a strange way. "Dinner is almost ready if you want to eat first," he managed to choke out around the lump in his throat. How could he have not considered that today's appointment would mean that Trace was leaving?
The tight sound of David's voice worried Trace, and he turned to see the other man's frown. "Hey, what's this?" Trace reached up to rub the furrow on David's brow. Had David gotten as attached to him as he had to David? "Don't you want your house back to yourself?" he asked curiously. "Don't think I'm leaving you; no way that's happening," he asserted as he gently pulled David back against him.
Looking up into the clear brown eyes, David sighed in relief. He could understand Trace wanting to go back to his own home, his own routine. He'd just have to deal with it or do his best to convince him to stay. "It's going to feel pretty empty without you. I got manicotti from Angelo's. If you don't stay for dinner, I'll be eating leftovers for a week."
"I love Angelo's," Trace said with a grin. He kissed David lightly and rubbed their noses together. "C'mon. Feed me," he said, taking David's hand and pulling him toward the kitchen. "'Cause then I have plans."
David grinned. "I hope they involve me getting to finish what I started this afternoon, because I wasn't anywhere near done with you," David purred, letting his momentum press Trace into the counter when they reached the kitchen.
Trace hummed happily as David pressed up against him. "Oh yeah. And I owe you, lover," he said throatily, nipping at the other man's neck. "We better eat fast, or I'm gonna hit my knees right here." God, he wanted to. He'd not tried it yet, and he'd slowly been coming to the realization that he wanted to. He'd tasted David on his fingers, and he'd held him in his hand. But he wanted more. He wanted to see David come apart just like David made him fall to pieces. Or he'd at least like to try to make it happen.
The blond trembled at that husky promise, his nipples and cock hardening instantly. His hips rocked forward against Trace's leg, his hands sliding down to cup the curve of the brunet's ass and pull him closer. "You'd really...? You want...?" He swallowed, unable to finish the sentence with the images flooding his mind.
Nodding and rubbing his cheek against David's, Trace slid his hands to grip David's upper arms. "Yeah," he said huskily. "Wanna try. Want to make you feel what I do when you do it to me."
A second chill raced up David's spine. Dinner was highly overrated, and wasn't pasta always best reheated anyway? His hand dropped down to caress Trace through his jeans.
Trace groaned and moved his hips against David's hand as his heart pounded. "Okay," he breathed. "Dessert first." He lowered himself to one knee, his hands dragging down David's body. Once on both knees he turned David's hips so the other man leaned back against the counter and started to unfasten his jeans.
David gulped, looking down at his lover. "Trace? Trace!" he said, tugging on Trace's shirt.
Heated brown eyes shifted up to glance at David. With his lover's surprised tone, Trace felt calm descend upon him. He smiled sweetly and nuzzled David's thickening cock through his boxers. "Yeah?"
Exhaling a stuttering breath, David felt his knees go weak. "Can we? I want.... Not in the kitchen." His eyes darted toward the door, incapable of coherency with Trace's mouth that close to his cock.
Trace tipped his head back. "Okay," he said agreeably. He climbed to his feet. "What do you want?" he asked, leaning in close to kiss along David's jaw.
"You," David sighed. "God. You. Bed or couch. Don't care, but I need to sit down before my knees give out."
Chuckling, Trace took his hand and led the way into the hallway heading toward the bedroom. "I sure know that feeling," he said wryly. At the side of the bed he pulled David into his arms for another heated kiss, plunging his tongue into the other man's mouth in as close a claim as he'd ever made. He wanted David so badly.
David whimpered, melting against Trace's body. If he'd been turned on by his friend before, it was nothing compared to the way the world was spinning now. Trace taking control made David's entire body throb.
Feeling David give in to him was heady; the older man always took the lead, ever since they'd begun exploring each other, simply because Trace wanted him to. He'd had so much to learn about pleasing a man. But now, now he wanted to be the one in charge. He jerked David against him, hard, grinding their groins together as he kissed the other man hungrily. "Gonna blow your mind," he growled before biting hard at the juncture of David's neck and shoulder.
David's head tilted on its own accord, a soft mewl escaping. You already have, he thought, glad that the mattress supported the backs of his wobbly knees. At least when they gave out, it wouldn't hurt. "You touch me and I melt," he whispered harshly, his lips nudging inside Trace's collar to lick at his chest.
Trace purred and tilted his head back to give David more skin to kiss. "We're even then," he breathed. He moved his hands from David's hips to his belly and finished unbuckling his lover's belt.
Clothes. Clothes were definitely a hindrance. The thought penetrated David's pleasure-fogged brain and his hands started to work on untucking Trace's shirt. "There ought to be a rule against you wearing clothes in the house," he muttered, cursing as his fingers fumbled with the small buttons.
Laughing breathlessly, Trace pulled open David's jeans and shoved them over his hips before yanking at his shirt, sending a popped button to the floor. "Your house, your rules," he said, leaning in to suck David's earlobe between his teeth.
"Oh, I like the sound of that," David purred, gasping as Trace's teeth tightened. "Do that to my nipples, and I'll be your slave for life."
"How can I resist?" Trace whispered, pulling the sides of David's shirt farther apart, sending more buttons flying. His mouth surrounded the nub of skin, sucking and biting at it.
"Ah, fuck," David cried, sinking to the bed and pulling Trace with him. Trace clutched at David, refusing to let go of his prize as he suckled at his chest hungrily. He landed on top of David's knees, and his fingers plucked at the other nipple in a promise of what was coming.
A strangled sound of pure need broke from David's throat, his body bowing, seeking more contact from Trace. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to focus. "I want you inside me tonight, Trace," he rasped, trying to catch the warm brown eyes of his lover. "If you don't want that, you need to tell me now."
Focusing on his lover's face, desire flared inside Trace and he felt a surprising sense of possessiveness. It was fragile and new and made him feel shaky, the idea that he would want David to be his and no one else's. It was a feeling he'd truly thought he'd never experience, to want someone so totally. Something about David must have flipped that switch inside him. "I want it," he breathed, wonder clear in his voice, before he lunged forward with all his eagerness to capture David's mouth.
David's legs parted, drawing Trace closer and cradling him against the most intimate part of his body and sinking into the kiss. This felt so good, so right. He wanted to beg Trace to move faster and savor every second at the same time. Unwilling to part with the lips on his, he settled for running his hands down the broad muscles of Trace's back, cupping and kneading his ass to silently urge him closer.
A low growl rumbled in Trace's throat as he kissed David thoroughly. When he pulled back, his lips were red and swollen. "Want to taste you," he said, shifting his hips to rock against David's groin. "Want to kiss you. Want to lick you up and down and feel you shake because you know it's me."
The room spun and David's body trembled right on cue. "God, Trace." He clutched at Trace's sides as the brunet carefully stood up before going to one knee and pulling off David's shoes and jeans. Trace shuffled between David's knees and leaned to press his cheek against the thin cotton that covered his lover's cock. As he inhaled, he realized he wasn't nervous. He wanted this. He turned his chin to mouth David's erection through his briefs, breathing against the fabric hotly. David's knees fell open limply, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Trace," he panted, his hips arching off the mattress. "Can't.... Gonna make me come."
Chuckling, Trace nodded, rubbing his lips along the line of David's cock. "That's the idea, lover," he purred, avidly watching David's reactions. He started licking and sucking at the covered flesh, soaking the cotton with his tongue until he found the blunt, swollen head. Acting on instinct, Trace closed his mouth over it.
Surprised, David screamed, his face flushing at his outburst. He wanted to be cool and controlled, but Trace stole every ounce of restraint he possessed. He honestly never thought he'd feel Trace's mouth on his cock, no matter how much he wanted it. His eyes fixed on the tongue and mouth working over his cock and every sensation was amplified tenfold. The unpracticed but enthusiastic touches were the most erotic thing he had ever experienced. "Fuck, fuck," he chanted blindly, his hips lifting in sync with Trace's lips. "Move---fuck---move the.... "He broke off to catch his breath. "Want to feel your mouth on me," he finally managed to choke out.
Trace's eyes closed as he shuddered. To think he reduced David to this. Holy hell, it felt incredible. He raised his mouth from the wet fabric and looked up at his lover, seeing the surprise and desire there. David was so gorgeous like this. Heart pounding, Trace smoothed his hands over the briefs, and his fingers slid into the waistband to pull them down and over the swollen cock. With one last glance at David's glazed eyes, he leaned to simply slide his lips along the soft skin of David's erection.
A thousand pinpricks of sensation fired from the area brushed by Trace's mouth. "Oh yes," he hissed, his fingers sinking into the silken strands of dark hair. David collapsed back at an awkward angle against the headboard, limp. With an irritated grunt, he shifted sideways so he could lie back against a pillow, pulling his legs up onto the bed.
Trace followed, kneeling between David's thighs, giving his lover the same treatment he had through the briefs, sliding his cheek and stubbled chin along his cock, lightly licking along its length, mouthing its girth before finally lapping right at the distended head with a soft purr.
David squirmed. He'd never gotten off on so little, but it felt like Trace's tongue was pulling directly on invisible lines leading down into his balls. With every upstroke, his body contracted and threatened to spill onto Trace's tongue. He attempted to stifle a sharp cry as the teasing touch circled the head of his cock, failing miserably and giving in to a throaty moan as the lips closed over the swollen tip. Lifting slightly, he rocked up into the intoxicating heat just slightly, not wanting to startle Trace, but unable to hold still.
Trace wanted nothing else at this moment than to please David. The noises and movement set his own cock to aching, but he wasn't willing to give up. He just hoped he didn't hurt David somehow. Lifting one long-fingered hand, he wrapped it around David's cock and squeezed as he began to suck carefully. He wanted to hear more of those cries. The taste was stronger than off his fingers, of course, but Trace decided he liked it. He liked anything and everything about David. Trace wanted to feel David moving under him, driven mad by his touch. The brunet's pulse pounded. He still remembered what David had said. He wanted Trace inside him. Trace moaned deeply at the thought of it as his groin contracted in pleasure.
Trace's groan sent shivers skating over David's skin, hardening his nipples to painful points and making his cock pound. Unaware, he reached up to rub at the puckered nubs on his chest to ease the sting, planting his feet and pushing up into the tight fist. His eyes flickered open. Looking down at the full, red lips stretched around the shaft of his cock, David couldn't hold back. "Oh God. God, Trace!" he shouted, gripping his lover's head, not to push himself deeper but to make sure he didn't. Hips thrashing, he tried to pull away from Trace's mouth without losing contact with his hand. "Fuck! Coming!"
Surprised by the strength of David's thrashing, Trace pulled his mouth off his lover's cock not quite in time and the come dripped and smeared on his lips. Gasping at the sheer eroticism of it, Trace tightened and moved his hand as he extended his tongue to catch the next splatter that hit his cheek. Delighted laughter bubbled over as another thin stream hit his chin, and he wiped at it with the back of his hand. He did this to David. He did it. Oh Christ! That kernel of him wanting to claim David as his own swelled and popped ecstatically, and Trace had no idea what to do or think about it.
The force of the climax that hit him left David with no option but to hold on and ride it out. Hips bucking, eyes clenched tightly shut, fingers wound in dark hair, he chanted Trace's name over and over as his body shuddered and surged. When the intense pulses subsided into gentle twinges, he opened his eyes, seeking reassurance that his lover was all right. Trace stared at him, eyes glowing with stunned happiness and desire, flushed cheeks and swollen lips painted with his come. David came close to climaxing again. Instead, he pulled Trace down with a throaty groan. "Mine."
Trace's answer was a weak whimper as he shivered at the passion riding him, and his lips slid wetly over David's. David felt the same way. Maybe there was nothing wrong with it, then. "Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah." He let go of David's cock and slid his hands up to cup his face as they kissed with open mouths, and he tried to clamber up into David's lap, hungry to be closer to his possessive lover.
Sitting upright, David pulled Trace up to straddle his lap, his hands roaming feverishly, his mouth only leaving Trace's long enough to speak. Breathing was optional at this point. "Not good enough," he complained, trying to situate their two long frames against each other. "I want you laid out in front of me."
Trace let out a long breath as he shifted under David's hands with a soft moan. "I am so fuckin' turned on by you," he said huskily as he rubbed his palms over his own chest, fingers sliding under his hanging-open shirt. He reached up to shove his hair off his shoulder and met David's eyes with his own, which flashed with serious want. "What are you gonna do about it?"
David leaned forward, following the arch of Trace's neck with his lips and then his tongue until his mouth hovered next to Trace's ear. "I'm gonna lay you down and explore every inch of your skin with my hands and then with my mouth. I'm gonna compare the taste of your skin here," David licked the sensitive hollow behind Trace's ear, "with the way you taste here," he ran his thumbs into the crease between Trace's leg and body, stretching the fabric tight against Trace's cock. "Let me taste you, make you so hard you tremble, and then show you what it feels like to be inside me."
"Aww hell," Trace hissed, eyes wide as his cock twitched so hard he thought for a second he was going to come right then and there. He dropped one hand to press over his groin, trying to relieve a little of the pressure and get control of himself. "You better be careful or I won't make it to the inside part," he said shakily. "Christ, David. You really want, want me to...?" For some reason it just sounded totally wrong to blurt out the word 'fuck'. Wrong and harsh and lewd. But how else could he say it?
A low chuckle rumbled in David's chest, and he pressed his grin into Trace's shoulder, the joy inside of him expanding to the point that it had to bubble over somewhere. Grabbing Trace's ass, he pulled him closer. "Yeah, I really want you to.... "His words faded out as he stared into Trace's mesmerized eyes. "Fuck me. Make love to me. Come so deep inside me I can taste you." He emphasized each statement by rocking their hips together, feeling his spent shaft begin to twitch with interest as it brushed against Trace's hard bulge.
Each reference caught Trace harder in the gut. Make love to him. Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. The rest just made his head spin. "You're gonna have to help. I know what's supposed to happen, but no hands-on, you know?" he rasped.
Just the idea of being Trace's first male lover was enough to harden David's cock completely. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, and I'll guide you every step of the way." Rolling off the bed, David opened the curtains, letting in the bright light of the full moon. "Take your clothes off and lie down for me." He pulled open the nightstand drawer, getting the supplies they'd need and putting them close at hand.
Swallowing hard, Trace shrugged his shirt off and let it drop as he stared at David, lit by moonlight. How could he express how gorgeous this man was to him? And he was going to make love to him. Trace didn't want to just fuck. He wanted more. His pants pooled at his ankles, soon joined by his briefs and socks, and he stepped away from them as he pulled the band out of his hair, shrugging it over his shoulders the way he had discovered David liked it. Trace crawled onto the bed and shifted to lie on his side, facing David. His hands itched, and he grasped the sheets. David pushed Trace onto his back, crawling over him. "My turn," he growled, his mouth attacking one of Trace's nipples, sucking it strongly until it peaked high enough to catch it with his teeth. While he sucked, he let his thigh push Trace's erection into his body, bracing himself on his arms and sliding up and down.
Trace gasped and lifted against David, his chest, then his hips, begging with his body for more. He clutched at his lover's shoulders and moaned luxuriously as he breathed David's name. Obviously his lover wanted him, maybe even wanted to keep him? Trace shivered as he figured out that was the way he felt too. David's hands traveled up Trace's side, pulling his arms up over his head and trapping both wrists in one hand. His mouth moved to the other nipple, his body continuing to undulate, keeping Trace on edge but not providing enough friction to push him over.
A strangled whimper tore from Trace's throat as he lightly pulled at his arms, just enough to feel restrained, not with any intention of breaking free. The dominant gesture sent heat shrieking through him, and every touch of David's tongue fanned the fire. "David," he gasped out. "You keep this up we won't make it to the inside part."
"Wimp," David teased lightly. "You tellin' me you can't get it up more than once a night? That's not the story I've heard told all over town." Spreading Trace's thighs with his knees, he ran his cock directly against the heavy balls and rock-hard length.
"Jesus!" Trace swore, jerking up against David, his hands curling to dig into David's upper arms. "You're about to find out," he said as he felt the tension curl tightly in his groin. "And I wanna know who's talking about me!" he added breathlessly.
"Everyone. Everyone, my love," David purred, sliding down Trace's body. "If they could see you like this, they'd.... "David shook his head. "Turned on like this, I could come just watching you, but I'd rather make you come." Lifting the cock from Trace's belly, he licked at the head with a broad swipe of his tongue and swallowed the entire length in one long pull. It wasn't David's voice or what he wanted; it was the endearment hidden in there that snapped what little control Trace had left. His lover's mouth closing around him just made it that much more inevitable and he choked and keened with each pulse of his orgasm, his grip on rational thought spiraling out of reach.
David swallowed every drop, continuing to suckle the length as he pushed Trace's knees open wider and up toward his chest. Allowing the half-hard cock to drop from his mouth, he looked up from between Trace's thighs. "Remember when I said I was going to taste you everywhere?" he asked with a devilish grin. "There is one more place I need to taste." Leaning back over Trace's open and vulnerable body, his tongue lapped at the tight sac and lower.
Trace's dazed eyes widened as he watched David's chin tip down and felt his lover's tongue slide along with it. His head spun as he realized what David was doing, and all he could manage was a whimpering gasp as he curled his fists in the sheets. Christ. It didn't get more intimate than this. He shivered and moaned.
Every inch David could reach, he sucked and licked, swirling his tongue around the puckered entrance and nipping at the pale cheeks. He watched as Trace got hard, his cock lengthening along up his belly. David pressed his lips tight to the small opening, sucking and moaning as the muscles under his hands trembled. His tongue flicked over the pucker, pressing just inside, leaving the hole twitching and wet. "I want to put my finger in you. Show you how good you're about to make me feel. Trust me?" David murmured against the velvety skin.
Dragging open his eyes to look down at David through the heated haze that enveloped him, Trace squirmed a little as he drew a steadying breath. "I do trust you," he said, reaching to slide his fingers along David's cheek. "You always take care of me."
"Pay attention because you get to do this to me next," David said, reaching for the bottle of lube. Coating his fingers liberally and drizzling some directly on Trace, he licked at the underside of his cock, sucking it back into his mouth just as the tip of his finger slipped easily into Trace's body. With plenty of lubrication, his finger glided smoothly in and out of the tight muscle. He flicked his tongue over the head of Trace's cock, his finger penetrating past the first knuckle and curving to stroke Trace's prostate.
Trace was trying his best not to think too much about what David was doing, instead focusing on the feeling. The feeling of David's fingers sliding so smoothly along his cleft, the wet laving of David's tongue on his aroused cock, the heat from David's skin soaking into him. So he was surprised when the push of David's finger didn't exactly hurt---he couldn't have said why he expected it to---and he was shocked when the rub of David's snub fingertip left a trail of fire that flared so hot he keened out a cry before he could even think to stop it. "Holy hell, David! I'm supposed to pay attention with you doing that?" he asked, incredulous.
David grinned around the cock in his mouth, the vibrations of suppressed laughter dancing up and down the shaft. "No, not really. Thinking really isn't the goal at this point. Just feel for me, baby." His finger continued to tease as his words grew low and throaty, his tongue randomly licking at the cock in his hand. "Having you inside me will feel ten times this good. And coming," David moaned. "Coming.... You inside me, clamping down around your cock." Trace's muscles tightened around David's finger, and he moaned again. "God, Trace."
"Jesus," Trace breathed, pulling his knees up. The mix of swirling sensations was confusing and arousing at the same time. He knew full well what it felt like to be inside a woman, even one who was small and tight. He'd been in a woman's ass too, which was a huge turn-on. But being inside David could in no way possibly be the same. He felt himself contract around David's finger, and another bolt of pleasure shot through him. God, was this just a taste of what it would be like to have David in him? He twitched as his cock throbbed. "David," he rasped. "I need you."
David crawled up Trace's body, trailing kisses along his path until he reached the brunet's mouth. "So take me, lover."
Curling his arms around him, Trace rolled them until he lay atop David. He stole another long, wet kiss before scooting back to kneel between David's thighs. His eyes raked over the firm body laid out before him, and he leaned to kiss David's belly before taking up the bottle. At the sudden rush of nerves, he reminded himself that he knew what he was doing. Intellectually. He spread some lube on his fingers and slid them under David's balls, rubbing as he went. Trace didn't break eye contact as he rubbed over the hole he was going to bury himself in. "So hungry for you," he whispered.
An erotic chill spread across David's skin. Planting his feet on the mattress, he lifted into Trace's touch. "Want you inside me," he rasped, drowning in his lover's eyes. Swallowing hard, Trace pressed against the portal and slid his finger in slowly to the second knuckle, as deep as he dared.
"Oh fuck! Deeper!" David cried, his eyes fluttering. It had been so long since he'd been this intimate with anybody and knowing it was Trace was driving him crazy. He could read the reluctance in Trace's eyes and the way he was biting his lip. "You aren't going to hurt me. Remember the feeling of my finger in you. Let me show you," he soothed. Reaching between his legs, he slid a long finger in next to Trace's, guiding him deeper and helping him find exactly the spot that made him see stars.
Trace watched his finger sink inside as David guided him, and he felt David's body twitch when the side of his finger rubbed over a bump. For a long minute and several strokes later, he felt his lover's body clench around him. "Okay?" he asked, glancing to David for approval.
David nodded. "You ready to do this?" he asked, voice unsteady. "Because I'm gonna come, and I really want you inside me."
Sucking in a breath, Trace tilted his head back for a moment as he gathered himself. "Yeah," he murmured. He grabbed up the condom, rolled it on and slicked himself with a soft moan. Then he shuffled closer between David's thighs. His hands shook as he lined up, pressed against the pucker, and started to push until his lover's body opened to accept him. He stopped immediately, biting his lip, his free hand clenching on David's leg.
"God, don't stop!" David's hips tilted up, his hands pulling Trace deeper. Gasping, Trace obeyed, starting to rock slowly in, the motion familiar even if the body wasn't. Once far enough inside, he slid both hands to clutch at the blond's spread thighs. David's body bowed, wanting Trace deeper, closer. Reaching up, he hooked his hand around Trace's bicep and pulled. "Kiss me," he begged, wanting to be connected to his lover in every way possible.
Trace moaned as he carefully laid himself down and leaned on his elbows, licking at David's lips before kissing him. He felt like he was caught in a slick, hot vise, and he didn't want to leave it. The heat was boiling in his veins, and the urge to move was undeniable. He kept shifting his hips even as he lay atop his lover. When they finally parted to draw breath, Trace whispered, "So, so good," in an achingly tender voice. It was overwhelming, being a part of David this way. It was so much more than he'd ever hoped it could be, and he hadn't even realized he was hoping at all.
"You, inside me. Nothing ever felt this good," David moaned, his hands traveling up and down Trace's back, kneading at the flexing muscles.
Humming softly in agreement, Trace pushed himself up further on his elbows, arching his back as he made a first, long thrust on a soft gasp. He looked down at David intently as he slid in over and over until their hips bumped. "David, I had no idea," he murmured. Trace's hair poured over his shoulders, swaying with each move, and he licked his bottom lip as he tried to keep his concentration on not peaking too quickly. He wanted this to last.
David swallowed, hypnotized by the man moving above him, inside him. "Me either," he croaked, throat dry. "And I don't even have the excuse of never having done it."
Trace chuckled breathlessly. The even motion of pushing himself forward into David's body with his knees was somehow even more maddening than the hard, sharp thrusts he fought against. "Feel so damn close to you," he murmured, ducking his head to draw his tongue along the line of David's throat.
"Can't get any closer, and I'm not sure I ever want you any farther away." A particularly well-placed thrust caused every muscle in David's body to tense, his thighs trembling. His hand slipped between their bodies.
Lifting slightly to make room for David's hand, Trace shifted his weight back and thrust in a little harder, groaning each time their bodies clashed. His chest tightened with that indescribable sense of possessiveness. Trace's thrusts strengthened, and he gritted his teeth against the swelling orgasm. His hands gripped David's hips, holding the other man's legs on his forearms. "Touch yourself, David. I need to see you come knowing it's me driving you to it," Trace bit out, that little bit of greediness riding him so hard he couldn't escape it.
David's hand closed back around his erection. He was so close that it wasn't going to take long. Watching the emotion in Trace's eyes, hearing the passionate tone of his voice, feeling him tremble, David groaned, fisting himself rapidly, wanting to feel Trace's climax almost more than his own.
Trace tensed all over as his orgasm slammed into him, almost unexpected---he'd thought he'd have another minute---and he gave a long, quiet cry over each shift of his hips as he came. He was shaking, lost to the feeling, a feeling he hoped he'd never have to give up. The realizations only made the shockwaves more acute as he moaned David's name, heart aching. The uninhibited pleasure washing over Trace's face was all David needed to push him over the edge. Stilling his hand, he let the last strokes of Trace's cock send him over. "Trace!"
Twitching through the tapering climax, Trace managed to pry open his eyes to see the ecstasy written on David's face. Christ. He's so gorgeous. "So gorgeous," Trace murmured, dragging one hand down his lover's chest as he watched him shudder through his own orgasm. Pulling Trace down on top of him, David wrapped his arms and legs around the solid body. Breathing too hard for a deep kiss, he buried his face in the crook of Trace's neck.
After a few minutes, a short sigh accompanied Trace's cock slipping loose of David's body. "I need to clean up a little," Trace said. He kissed David's forehead and climbed off of him to sit on the edge of the bed. After a few breaths, he headed into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. He cleaned up and took a wet washcloth with him back to the bed. He turned the bathroom light back off and stood there, caught in watching David in the moonlight. The fierce possessiveness had waned, and now he wondered if it was just a spur of the moment thing. But the strong affection remained, that was clear.
Trace leaned over to shake David gently. "Hey, aren't you hungry?" he asked as he started wiping off David's belly.
David sighed heavily, as if put upon. "Yeah, actually, I am. Don't want to move, though." He turned a satisfied smile on his lover.
Trace straightened, setting his hands on his hips. He looked awfully satisfied as well. His hair still floated around his shoulders in a mess. "Angelo's? Manicotti? Wine? Cuddling on the couch?"
"Mmmm. Sounds better and better," David said. "You convinced me."
"Well, c'mon then," Trace said, lightly smacking David's ass as he walked out to find some comfortable clothes.
"Watch it, Jackson! You might want this ass undamaged later!" David called after him, a huge grin on his face.
Half an hour later, they were sitting close on the couch, eating the pasta and a salad Trace had tossed. David watched him, knowing the whole falling thing was moot. He was so far gone on Trace he didn't even want to consider looking back. Trace made a sound of pleasure, setting his empty plate on the coffee table and leaning back. "I love Angelo's," he purred. His eyes shut as he rubbed his belly.
David laughed. "You ate it fast enough," he said, glancing down at a whole piece still on his plate. He'd been so busy watching Trace that he'd stopped eating halfway through his plate. "Want some more?"
"Yeah, but I'm too lazy to go get it," Trace drawled.
"Here," David said. He scooped up a bite and held the fork to Trace's lips. The other man opened his eyes and blinked, then opened his mouth. David deposited the bite on his tongue with a grin.
"Mmmmm. Now this is pampering," Trace murmured after swallowing.
"You worked hard this evening; deserve a reward," David answered, offering another bite. Trace replied by taking the bite and humming happily.
The manicotti didn't last long, nor did the wine, and David took the glasses and plates to the kitchen. When he returned to the living room, he grabbed both of Trace's hands and hauled him up.
"What?" Trace asked with an oooph and a laugh.
"I want my cuddle time," David claimed, pulling Trace down the hall with him back to the bedroom. The brunet was more than willing. They dropped their clothes on the carpet and climbed onto the huge bed. Trace rolled to his back and stretched luxuriously as David sat next to him and watched. "You're so handsome," David said conversationally.
Trace paused in his stretch and raised an eyebrow. "You know," he said quietly. "I've heard that. A lot, actually. But it means more coming from you."
David smiled and lay down right next to Trace and pulled on his arm. Warmed by a wave of affection swelling in his chest, Trace rolled atop David, sinking them both into the bed. Their bodies aligned from where Trace lay between David's thighs up to their chests, and Trace teased his lips slowly, enjoying being close to David while he cajoled a long, heartfelt kiss from him.
David grinned, enjoying his lover's weight against him. Tilting his head, he sucked at Trace's tongue, his fingers sinking deep into the dark curtain of hair. "Fuck, you taste good."
"Glad you think so," Trace murmured, leisurely kissing his lover again and again.
David basked in the warmth of Trace's body and couldn't overcome the sated lethargy that demanded he just drift for awhile. "Hold me while we sleep?"
Trace rolled to his side after one last kiss and curled his arms around David, pulling the other man against him. He tangled their legs together and turned his head so David's tucked into the curve of his neck. "How's that?" he asked softly.
"Perfect."
Trace nodded and lifted his hand to caress David's cheek. "We fit," he said simply. It worked in so many ways, in Trace's opinion. As friends, as companions, as lovers. Drowsy, he started to drift off.
David felt sleep calling, but there was something important he wanted to say. He listened to Trace's soft breathing, wondering if his lover was already asleep. The words came out softly. "I want you to stay. Stay with me."
After a long moment Trace opened his eyes, looking into the dark. He'd heard David. It sparked something inside him, but he was far too sleepy to pick it apart. Instead he squeezed David gently. Reassured, David fell asleep. He was where he wanted to be.
Hours later, the soft light of dawn began to brighten the bedroom, waking him back up. Usually the moment David's eyes opened, he was ready for his feet to hit the floor, but waking in Trace's arms, their bodies curled together, legs entwined, he felt no urgency to move. Brushing a lock of dark hair back from Trace's face, he let his fingers linger, tracing the contours. The arch of a cheekbone, a dark brow, the full curve of Trace's bottom lip---every detail was precious.
The whisper-soft touches slowly brought Trace awake, and his eyes fluttered open to see David looking at him tenderly. Trace's pulse picked up. "Morning," he murmured.
"Morning," David returned, his lips curving as they gently touched Trace's. "Sleep well?"
"Mmmm hmmm," Trace answered, sliding his free hand around David's neck. "Someone tired me out."
David nuzzled Trace's sleep-warm nape. "I feel like I found you just before it was time for you to leave. I don't want to let go."
"So you meant what you said," Trace said slowly. "You want me to stay." He thought it over for a few moments as David remained quiet. "That's an awful big step, isn't it?" he asked seriously.
David closed his eyes, Trace close in his arms, trying not to feel like he was clinging. "I do mean it. Just the idea of going from having you here all the time to not being able to see you every day.... But the last few weeks haven't been normal. It's sort of like falling in love on vacation. I guess we both need to go back to our lives and see where this fits." Pulling away slightly and forcing himself to look Trace in the eye, he said, "But I do want to try this. I want a relationship with you. I don't want to go back to being just friends."
Trace smiled slowly. "Me either. I think I'm going to be lonely in my apartment with just Gail for company. But I think you're right. I want to know this isn't just caused by constant proximity."
"I don't know if constant proximity causes feelings like this, but if it does, I'd be willing to sacrifice and spend all my time with you just to keep it going." David pressed a grin into Trace's shoulder. "Just because you are going home doesn't mean you couldn't keep some stuff here, maybe spend the night occasionally...."
"How about you let me take you to dinner? This weekend?" Trace asked. "Then we can go out somewhere."
"I think I'd rather let you take me to dinner and then stay in." David leered comically. "I should probably warn you. I'm easy."
Trace snorted, grinning, and leaned to kiss David lightly. "You're on."
"C'mon David, don't make me get up there," Trace wheedled, turning sideways in the chair at the decorated table. "You know what Katherine's like." Around the table, Matt snorted.
"This isn't about Katherine, lover. This is about the kids over at St. Vincent's." David ran his hand up Trace's thigh under the table, squeezing. "Besides, I want to see your ass walk across that stage and know that it's all mine," he added in a hoarse whisper, close to Trace's ear.
Trace closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking at the other man. He rolled his eyes, although they were affectionate. "You better not lose," he warned, pushing out of the chair as the host called his name a second time and the audience cheered. It was the annual fund-raiser for the children's hospital, an event of glitz and glamour, and all the biggest names in town showed up.
"I can't believe you're actually throwing him to the wolves," Matt said, raising his scotch to his lips.
David grinned, watching the hands fly up all over the room as the bidding started after the host introduced Trace. "It won't hurt him to sweat a little. Then I can swoop in and save him like a knight in shining armor."
"I think you're mixing your metaphors. Superheroes swoop. Knights ride."
David glared at his friend, kicking at him under the table. "You know what I mean."
Ever the social butterfly, Trace hammed it up on stage, encouraging the bids. The last several years he'd brought in one of the top five or so offers, and judging by the furious bidding going on now, it looked like it would happen again. A few of the women even approached the stage to ask questions, and Trace squatted down to talk to them, smiling all the while.
David tilted his head, appreciating the stretch of fabric over Trace's ass as he talked to a pretty brunette. The first few months of their relationship, he'd constantly tormented himself with the thought of Trace announcing that the experiment was over and he really preferred women, but all those doubts had systematically been extinguished by the steady deepening of their relationship. David had never loved this way before, and he knew now that love was returned absolutely.
"She's making her move." David's shoulders tensed as Matt nudged him. The photographer nodded at the elegant blonde columnist maneuvering forward through the crowd.
There was a gaggle of women at the edge of the stage now, alternately talking and bidding as Trace flirted outrageously, driving up the bid. In the middle of it all, Trace glanced over and made eye contact with David, deliberately winking. Several of the women sighed and mock-swooned, drawing a warm laugh from the journalist on stage.
"God, he's a terrible flirt. How do you stand it?" asked Patrick, who was sitting next to Matt. "I think he's worse than me!"
"Because I know where he spends his nights. All his nights," David answered, smiling fondly. His friends around the table laughed, knowing that full well.
Trace stood up and looked over the group, and out of nowhere the bid jumped significantly, gaining a lot of hostile stares from the other women. Katherine glided through to the front of the stage. "You're not escaping me this time, Jackson," she promised.
The food critic slid a hand into his pocket and calculatingly just barely slid his tongue over his bottom lip. "We'll see about that, darlin'," Trace teased. The rest of the group started whispering and looking at them both, and two more women made bids.
Katherine looked at the host. "I bid one thousand dollars."
Trace blinked in surprise and couldn't stifle a small laugh.
"This is going to cost you a fortune," Matt said, looking at Trace's casually seductive pose.
"It's worth every penny," David said quietly before raising his voice. "Twelve hundred."
Katherine sent a scathing glare over her shoulder toward their table, thinking they were just messing with her again. "Two thousand!" She smirked, believing that would shut them up.
"Twenty-five hundred," David came back.
Katherine narrowed her eyes and looked back at Trace accusingly. It was obvious he was really amused, eyes bright. He gave her a small smile and shrugged casually with one shoulder.
The blonde crossed her arms, starting to look more annoyed than usual. "Three thousand," she said petulantly, drawing copious applause and hooting from the crowd. It was the highest bid seen in several years.
"You could just let her win," Matt suggested. "It's not like he'd actually sleep with her or anything."
David shuddered. "I wouldn't be sleeping with him either, if I pulled a stunt like that, and, as you know, my couch isn't that comfortable." Standing, he mirrored Trace's casual pose and leaned back against a draped column. "Five thousand dollars."
The room erupted in gasps and catcalls, and all eyes turned on Katherine, who was really red in the face. She shot Trace a look promising torture and death, and he just chuckled, drawing more laughter.
"Five thousand dollars, going once," the host said. After a moment she added, "Going twice," and looked intently at Katherine, who stamped her foot and turned away, stalking back to her table. A lot of the other women grinned and looked back at David, then up to Trace, who was on stage with a silly grin on his face. "Sold!"
David strolled up to the stage, extending his hand and helping Trace down. When the brunet reached the floor, he threaded their fingers together and held on. Amid loud applause and raucous laughter and yelling, Trace grinned lovingly, pulled up close to David, and kissed him sweetly right then and there.
David's lips curved into a smile under Trace's. "You are going to catch no end of shit for this, you know?" he whispered to his lover, squeezing his hand.
Trace laughed and tossed his head back as the squeals and hooting echoed through the room. "Hope so," he said. "You deserve a kiss after spending that amount of money on me."
"I'd better get more than that," David pouted. "Let's go home, lover."
As they passed Katherine, the columnist's normally pristine look ruined by her incredulous gape, David leaned toward her. "Can't have you getting a chance to grope my boyfriend." Then he and Trace walked on.
"What...? How...? When did that happen?" Katherine stuttered as Matt strolled up to her side, grinning at the silhouette of his departing friends, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.
"Months ago, but they moved in together last weekend. I think you can cross Trace off your list as the one that got away."
Rhianne Aile has an unhealthy relationship with her computer, iced tea, and chocolate. Growing up, she split her time between Oklahoma and Chicago, making her equally fond of horses, skyscrapers, cowboys, and men in well-tailored suits. Facilitating retreats for women and authors keeps her traveling enough to stay happy.
Visit Rhianne's website at www.rhianneaile.com.
Madeleine Urban is a down-home Kentucky girl who's been writing since she could hold a crayon. A longtime science fiction and fantasy fan, she loves to mix those genres with romance to get explosive, satisfying results. She lives with a partner and two canine kids, visits Disney World twice a year, and still believes dreams can come true.
Visit Madeleine's blog at madeleineurban.livejournal.com/.
©Copyright Rhianne Aile and Madeleine Urban, 2009
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
February, 2009
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