Bad Boyfriend (7 page)

“Older?” Quinn suggested dryly.

Eli gave him a half smile. “I was going to say dead, but old will do, old man.”

Something vulnerable behind Eli’s smile reminded Quinn of a wild animal, trapped and ready to bolt. He tried to keep up the teasing. “And what would your mother say if she knew you were cavorting half-naked in the kitchen of a much older man?”

Eli turned back to the cabinet. “Don’t you have any tarragon?”

“What?”

“Tarragon. It’s really good in scrambled eggs.”

Quinn crossed to him and reached into the back of the spices. “Here.”

Eli looked up at him. “What kind of man actually uses cavorting in a sentence?”

“The one attached to this.” Teasing hadn’t worked, so Quinn went for what did. He grabbed Eli’s hand and put it on the fly of his jeans.

“Oh. That.” Eli’s palm opened, rubbed warm and slow.

Quinn’s dick got hot and tight, skin stretching again under the steady pump of blood. Sore but good. He moved Eli’s hand back to the counter edge, pinned the one on the other side and, ignoring a little morning stiffness, dropped to his knees.

Eli’s gasp made him look up. “Umm. The eggs.”

Quinn rolled the tip of Eli’s cock over his lips, skin pulsing and twitching as he kissed his way down to the base and then leaned back.

“A guy could get a complex. Is there some reason you don’t want me to suck you?”

Eli shook his head, eyes wide.

“Okay then.” Quinn buried his face between the lean hips, sliding his hands around Eli’s ass.

Another, sharper gasp, and Eli bucked forward as Quinn’s fingers gripped. He knew what Eli wanted. Christ, what they both wanted.

“Keep those hands on the counter.”

Eli’s breath stuttered out, and he didn’t offer any other resistance as Quinn learned the taste and smell of Eli’s skin, the way his cock fit in Quinn’s mouth, a nice downward angle to push it toward his throat.

Quinn’s mouth and hands and ears drank in Eli’s reactions, his expressive body so much easier to read than the constant shift of emotions in his face. He did like it rough, moaned and fed Quinn some precome for a light scrape of teeth as Quinn laid his finger over the line of bruises under the firm swell of Eli’s ass. He loved a hard fast suck and pressure on the head more than a deep bob, shuddered for a tug and lift on his balls.

“Wait. Quinn. Condom.”

Quinn pulled off for a second. Fucking was one thing, but this was his risk to take, and he wanted the raw taste of him. “Shh. It’s okay.”

Fingers diving back to run down the crease of Eli’s ass, Quinn showed off what Eli’s body had taught until tension vibrated in the thighs under Quinn’s forearms, a warning throb in the vein under his tongue.

“Shit, I’m—”

Even if Eli’s warning had been quicker, Quinn wasn’t going anywhere. He drank in the spurts from Eli’s cock, softening the pressure as the spasms ended, swallowed and licked him clean.

After climbing to his feet, he put his hands over Eli’s where they gripped the edge of old Formica. “Everything about you is sweet, boy.”

Before Quinn could kiss him, Eli wrenched a hand free and put it on Quinn’s mouth.

“I know from experience that’s not quite true, but thanks.” Eli slid the hand down Quinn’s jaw, his neck, his chest. As Eli’s fingers worked the top button of the fly on Quinn’s jeans, Eli rubbed his face on Quinn’s chest.

His cock had recovered from last night now, but Quinn stepped back. “I need some breakfast if I’m going to keep up with you.”

As Quinn shaved, a dressed Eli came into his shower-steamed bathroom holding the suit Quinn had just gotten back from the cleaners.

“Is this what you’re wearing?”

It was a respectable dark gray, and he’d worn it to job interviews—including the one for his job now. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. If it’s a funeral.”

Quinn studied Eli in his club clothes. There wasn’t a whole lot of damage the guy could do with only Quinn’s closet to work from, and showing off was kind of the point. “I’m guessing you have a different suggestion?”

Eli grinned and disappeared. When Quinn came back into the bedroom, Eli was all the way inside the closet.

“Your shoes are black, right?” Without waiting for an answer, Eli flung out a pair of black slacks. “Oh my God.” Eli tossed a shiny red gift box into Quinn’s chest. “Who was that from and how do I get on her gift list?”

Quinn caught the sweater as it fell out of the box. Black with a dark purple and gray argyle pattern. His yearly sweater from Claire, though he suspected Alyssa might have guided her selection that time.

“It’s cashmere,” Eli pronounced as if announcing it was made of solid gold.

“Yes.”

“Put that on. And…” He went back into the closet.

Quinn’s lips quirked since the whole point of this was his own re-coming out. To cover the smile, he said, “You know, I prefer a guy as hot as you undressing me instead.”

“Later. If you’re lucky.” Eli produced a medium-gray sport coat. “There.”

“Well?” Eli asked as Quinn stood in front of his mirror a minute later.

Although Quinn was viewing the whole experience as an odd kind of performance, he had to admit Eli had an eye for putting things together.

“It looks nice. Classy.” It felt odd to not be wearing a tie, the V-neck of the sweater exposing his throat.

Eli met his gaze in the mirror. “And not too queer, right?” His lips quirked, then his eyes widened. “They do know? Your family?”

“Yes.” At least the ones who counted as family.

“Well, they will if you walk in with me.” Eli’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you wanted me to come?”

Christ, he was sharp. Did being a photographer give him an ability to see things better? Quinn smoothed a narrow lapel along his chest. “Will you still come if I say that’s part of it?”

Eli studied him for a minute, their eyes both on the mirror. “They know, but it’s a don’t-talk-about-it thing, is that it?”

Quinn nodded.

“Sure.” Eli smiled. “I like being the center of attention.” He turned away from the mirror and looked directly at Quinn. The assessing stare felt uncomfortably pointed without their reflections as a buffer. After a few seconds, Eli’s eyes softened and he put his hands on Quinn’s shoulders. “I wish I could do something about your hair, but I’m afraid that exceeds my ability.” He reached around to flick at the tiny curl in the band.

With time and a lack of parking an issue, Eli left Quinn driving around the block, promising to be out in fifteen minutes. So Eli almost dropped his towel on his pass through the living room when he found Quinn taking up a huge amount of the tiny space.

“I found a parking spot. Marcy let me in.” Quinn nodded at Eli’s new roommate.

Eli’s friend Casey had gone down to North Carolina to finish her masters in some kind of ology. Eli was glad she’d figured out what she wanted to do, but her replacement had seriously screwed up the household dynamics. If he had to attend another house meeting that turned into a discussion on the proper disposal of feminine supplies—which, hello, he ought to be excused from—he was going to puke. Eli forced a smile for Marcy and darted into his tiny bedroom.

Now that Quinn had admitted why he was dragging Eli along to the family event, he’d already planned what he’d wear, and it only took him a few minutes to throw it on. Long enough though for Marcy to move from the couch to a few inches from Quinn’s nose. God, was she that clueless or just pathetic? Eli came out and slipped his hand into Quinn’s.

Quinn threaded their fingers together. His eyes sparkled as he brought Eli’s knuckles to his mouth to brush a kiss on them. “Ready?”

Eli grinned back. “If you are.”

“Did you forget your eyeliner, Eli?” Marcy’s smile showed teeth.

It was on the tip of Eli’s tongue to ask if Marcy had forgotten the name of a salon to get her eyebrows waxed, but he was trying hard to be nice.

“Thanks for letting me in, Marcy,” Quinn offered, and then they were through the door and down the stairs. “Your housemate. I—”

“Go ahead, say it.”

“God, she’s really a bitch.”

“Damn, now I owe you two blowjobs.” Eli stopped on the stair above and gave Quinn a quick kiss that turned into something a lot longer and nicer than he’d planned. Quinn let Eli do the work, and it felt strange to be the one hanging on and pushing his tongue into a different texture and taste. Strange but good enough to make his gut flood with heat and want. He let Quinn go, studying his face as he straightened. His eyes stayed shut for a second, and when they opened, their attention went right to Eli’s lips.

The look stayed soft as Quinn put a thumb on Eli’s mouth. “I think I’ll try for a week’s worth.” He smoothed the hood of the sweater hanging over the collar of Eli’s denim blazer. “I like you better in your fuck-me clothes…” he tucked Eli’s bangs behind his ear, “…but you still look—”

“If you’re serious about a blowjob, do not say cute.”

“Hot.”

Eli shook his hair free until it hung across his face. “Nice save.”

They were late. Since that was pretty much standard in Eli’s world, it didn’t bother him much. Besides, it wasn’t his party. He wasn’t about to blame it on Quinn pinning him up against the counter, because, hey, blowjob. But there was the fact that Quinn hadn’t stayed in the car like Eli told him to. He couldn’t exactly say why that irritated him so much, the sight of Quinn taking up all that space in the living room, knowing that Eli had a SpongeBob towel, or that his room at the front of the apartment was barely larger than the full-sized mattress on the floor. Yeah, that annoyed him enough to drop all the blame on Quinn.

Of course, Quinn might blame it on the fact that Eli got out of the car and stared up at the big stone edifice, the rosette stained glass and the label of St. Agnes Roman Catholic Church.

“Catholic?” He’d been expecting Episcopal or one of the other nice denominations that didn’t immediately assume he’d burn in hell forever because he had sex with men. Hadn’t Quinn said his family knew he was gay?

“Coming?” Quinn looked back.

Not for awhile. Just the presence of all that disapproval would be enough to keep his dick soft for hours. Eli caught up to him.

Things hadn’t started yet, but there was a hush of expectation as they hurried down the center aisle. Quinn seemed to be headed into a pew about halfway back from the sparkling gold stuff on the altar when an older woman stepped out from the second row and gestured to them. Well, to Quinn. Though she smiled as she let Eli move past her and her matching purse and shoes and husband to the inside of the pew. Quinn’s mom—if that’s who the lady was—had silvered blonde hair and fairly decent fashion sense.

As soon as Eli’s ass hit the hard wooden bench, the contact reminded him exactly what he’d been doing the night before. He could see the rationale behind church construction, the suffering guy staring out at you while you suffered on really hard wood after a fun weekend. Enough to bring on the guilt.

“Uncle Winn.” A sweet-sticky breath hit Eli’s cheek, and Quinn turned to the pew behind them.

“Hey, Tommy the Terror.” Quinn reached back for the toddler who was no doubt aptly named, as he was standing on his mother’s nice skirt.

“No.” His mother scooped Tommy the Terror back into her lap. “Don’t encourage him. He has to learn to sit still.”

A male arm clapped Quinn on the shoulder, and Quinn offered a buddyish handshake across the seat back.

The guy had sandy brown hair, the woman blonde. It was hard to tell which one might be Quinn’s in-law versus sibling. In fact, mother, father, or the next generation, none of them looked like they could be related to Tall, Dark and Sexy next to him. The men weren’t short or soft, but they didn’t have Quinn’s rangy muscles and lean face.

Eli realized he wasn’t the only one staring. The man who’d gripped Quinn’s forearm was giving Eli a steady once-over without the slightest trace of cruising approval. Eli had an idea he was being measured for a coffin.

“Dennis Laurent.” The man offered his name without a smile. The last name didn’t help. They hadn’t gotten as far as a last name.

“This is Eli,” Quinn said, smiling enough for both of them.

“Hi, Eli. I’m Paula.” The woman kept a firm grip on Tommy the Terror, but gave Eli a friendly nod. “You met Tommy and this is Faith.” She tilted her head toward a preteen girl with ribbons in her hair who was ignoring her family in favor of whatever reading material she’d found in the rack in their pew.

Eli was tempted to follow her excellent example—if he didn’t think the material might spontaneously combust when he touched it. When Quinn had invited Eli along, he’d completely forgotten how complicated the whole family business could be. It was easy to do, not having one of his own. He’d seen himself offering support for Quinn if things got disapproving with some aren’t-straight-people-weird humor, but from the steady look Dennis was giving him, Eli thought he might be the one in need of protection.

There was a general rustling and some warm-up notes on the organ when a side door opened and a woman who looked a little older than Eli snuck into the pew behind them. She earned a stern look from the mother which she returned with an unrepentant grin. She whapped Quinn on the back of the head before sitting next to the Dennis-Paula family.