Bad Company (22 page)

“A more supportive listener?”

Nate trying to dig himself out of this hole and falling in deeper was kind of funny, and the fact that Kellan wanted to laugh Nate out of his wounded dignity more than listen to the apology Nate owed him was proof of exactly how stupidly in love Kellan was with the guy.

“A better friend.” Nate looked off into the distance like the bus would spare him having to get through this. “You were right. I’m not really good at being friends with people. I tend to get on their nerves. But, there’s one thing I’m good at and that’s learning how to make something work better.”

“That’s a lot of words, Nate. What are you saying?”

“Can we still be— Christ, I don’t mean it like that.” Nate squeezed the back of his head. “I want you to stay part of my life.”

“Well, Eli seems to put up with you all right. Despite your best efforts to shake him loose.”

“He’s too young to know better.”

Kellan let the laugh slip out. “Yeah. I think we can still be friends.”

“Thanks.”

The sun shimmered off the bus, making it ripple as it rolled toward them.

“Your mom’s helping you out?”

“Well, she wired me enough cash to buy some decent clothes. God, getting money that way is fucking complicated.”

“Yeah.” Now that Nate had finished his speech he didn’t seem to know what to say.

“So how far back up does this bus go?”

“Up to Johns Hopkins Bayview. Um, where are you headed?”

“I thought I’d go in to see how Marisol is doing. I can’t play the guitar, but I can still work with her. I’ll check in with Jeff.”

“Right. You know, you’re still welcome to stay—I could get an air mattress or a futon or something.”

Kellan wanted to take pity on him, but this earnest, trying-too-fucking-hard Nate was too much fun. He deserved a little payback.

The bus’s air brakes made a nasal blast as it jolted to a stop in front of them.

“Meet me after work and we’ll talk about it.”

“Where?”

Kellan pretended to think a minute. “J.J.’s.”

Being late made Nate physically sick. Being late today, wondering if Kellan would still be there waiting while Nate was stuck at the
Rag’s
offices in a forty-five minute phone call to placate a major advertiser over a double-booked back cover infected him like a full-body toothache. He dry swallowed Tylenol and swore that the marketing director and the graphics editor were never allowed to be out on the same day again, no matter who the Orioles were playing or what their record was. He’d rather be back covering local bands and their tragically over-hip groupies than running the office.

At least by six, traffic flow had gotten light enough that he was able to push the scooter as fast as it would go as he headed north.

He parked it in the same alley and hit the door. Kellan was sitting at the bar in the same spot Nate had occupied six weeks ago. Scooter in the same alley, Kellan in the same spot. After work on a Monday. Nate wasn’t slow.

“Hey.” He walked up and nudged Kellan with his shoulder.

Kellan looked at him and took a long swallow from his bottle.

“I hear you’re gay now.”

“I’m in a gay bar,” Kellan pointed out with a shrug.

“Good, because I need a boyfriend.”

“Blow me.”

“Anytime, anywhere, baby.”

“I don’t know. I might need a boyfriend who isn’t such a control freak.”

Nate leaned close to his ear. “You want to fuck my ass, Kell? Then let’s get out of here.”

Kellan coughed on his beer. “Okay. I was just—I mean, you don’t have to—”

“No, but you do.”

Kellan started to wipe his mouth with his sore hand and then switched. He licked his lips and Nate kissed them, using his tongue to invite Kellan’s to follow him back. Kellan grabbed Nate’s head and held it. The ache faded from his body, melting into the wooden floor. Kellan was better than all the damned Tylenol in the world.

Kellan lifted his head. “I’m good with things the way they are.”

Nate ran his tongue over Kellan’s jaw, right below his ear. “Why do you think I have a dildo in the drawer next to my bed?”

Kellan jumped off the barstool and slapped a ten on the bar. Nate swore he was about to push the scooter—or the truck blocking them—when they went down Washington. But when they got in the apartment, Kellan seemed to run out of steam.

Nate steered him toward the couch, stripping them both. He looked at the tie in his hands and then at Kellan, sprawled on the couch, bandaged hand over his head. Another time.

Yeah, suddenly they had all the time and the laters in the world. Nate’s heart did that clichéd beat skip again, and he swallowed hard as he fished supplies out of the drawer. Swallowing didn’t loosen his chest. Religion might be the opiate of the masses, but sometimes confession was good for the soul.

He went to his knees in front of Kellan. “I love you, you know that? Always fucking have.”

Kellan brushed his thumb across Nate’s lips, smoothing his beard. “Yeah. I do.”

Nate caught Kellan’s hand and kissed his palm, then rubbed his face in it.

Kellan’s fingers curled as if it tickled.

“I could shave it if you want—if it’s too weird.”

“It’s you.”

Nate didn’t tease or lick, he went at Kellan’s dick and swallowed it, gulped him in until his pubes tickled Nate’s lips before slowly backing off.

“Holy shit,” Kellan breathed, and put his hand softly on Nate’s head.

Nate pulled off all the way and lined them up, urging Kellan’s hand to hold him tighter. He hesitated for a second. Control was an illusion. He’d never had any where Kellan was concerned. “Like this, baby. Fuck my face.”

Kellan shuddered and pushed in. Nate could tell the instant Kellan got over worrying about Nate’s breathing and gave into the feel of Nate’s mouth and tongue and throat.

“Fucking killing me,” Kellan gasped.

Nate let Kellan have it for awhile, until he felt the tightening of the skin over his lips, the tremors in Kellan’s thighs.

He wrenched his head free. “Wait, baby.”

Kellan’s eyes were hooded under his long bangs as he watched Nate grab the lube to pump some onto his fingers. “Are you gonna?”

Nate reached behind himself and slicked his hole. He squirted a little into Kellan’s hand. “Put it on the head of your dick.”

Kellan gave his dick a lazy swipe as Nate tore the condom open with his teeth.

Kellan took it from him before he could roll it down. “I’d better do it.”

Once the rubber was on, they both ran their lube-covered hands over it.

Before Kellan could stop and think again, Nate pushed him back against the couch and straddled him on a foot and one knee. Kellan put a hand on Nate’s hip and a tremor ran through them both. Sometimes sex was just sex, he’d given that advice often enough, and sometimes it was a whole hell of a lot more.

Reaching back, he guided Kellan’s cock into place and sank down enough to feel the stretch.

Kellan grabbed Nate’s ass with both hands, the splint jabbing into Nate’s glutes.

“Easy. Gimme a second.” Nate closed his eyes and finally managed to take the head, then slid slowly down the shaft.

“Nate.”

He opened his eyes.

“Yeah.” Kellan held his gaze.

Nate started riding him, but Kellan kept trying to go deeper, desperation spilling into a whine in his throat. Nate worked himself faster, holding onto the couch and Kellan’s shoulder for support.

“Fuck, that’s tight and I need, Nate, I need to—” Kellan bucked up.

“Yeah, I got you.”

With a wince, Nate pulled off and put his knee on the couch next to Kellan. Gripping the back of the frame, Nate stuck his ass up and tipped his head at Kellan.

Kellan scrambled eagerly off the couch, and Nate turned his head away to hide a deep breath. He liked the pressure of a cock in his ass, but he didn’t bottom like this. Except he did now. Because the look on Kellan’s face was worth fighting with himself to let go, to let Kellan take over.

Kellan wrapped an arm around him and slammed inside, too much too fast, and Nate groaned.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. But you’d better make sure I get off before you come.”

“Control freak.”

Nate wrapped a tight fist around his dick as Kellan started to fuck him. One shift of their hips, and Kellan had the perfect angle. Fucking beginner’s luck. Nate wanted to tease him with it, but he couldn’t do much but groan with the thick pressure rubbing across his gland, body crowded full of Kellan, in him and on him and around him. A heavy breath in Nate’s ear, the snap of balls against his ass as Kellan drove him into the couch again and again.

The last thought Nate had before he just gave in to what Kellan was doing to his body was a pang of regret at not putting a towel on the cushion. Then Kellan started moving in quick jabs that brought Nate right up under the edge. Tightening his ass muscles to help them both along, he worked his cock and let it go, let it flood through him and pour out of him, trusting Kellan to keep them both upright as Nate’s body locked out everything but the bursts of pleasure flying from his dick.

Kellan grunted and took two deep strokes before he was coming too, shaking and gasping against Nate’s skin, leaving the imprint of Kellan all over him.

Nate buried a wince in his forearms as Kellan pulled out.

“So, do I need an air mattress?” Yeah, Nate might be willing to put his ass and his pride on the line for Kellan, but damned if he’d let him get the last word.

“You need a real bed. We need a real apartment.”

“We?”

“Me and Yin. You can come live there too, but some of us are carnivores.”

“Okay.”

Kellan dragged Nate onto the couch where they got tangled up and stickier. “You’re kind of easy after getting fucked. I’m going to remember that.”

“Don’t get too used to it.”

“How about every time you piss me off?”

“Define pissed off.” Nate lifted his head so he could see Kellan’s face.

“Contemplating exactly how much five million could buy.”

“Okay.”

“One more thing.” Kellan was grinning. “As much fun as this stuff is—”

“‘This stuff’ meaning sex?”

“Yes. As much fun as fucking our brains out is, we’re getting a TV. At least thirty-six inches. And satellite. And—”

Nate stopped him with a kiss. “What happens when I get pissed off?”

“I’ll piss you off more until you fuck me stupid.”

“It’s a deal.”

About the Author

K.A. Mitchell discovered the magic of writing at an early age when she learned that a carefully crayoned note of apology sent to the kitchen in a toy truck would earn her a reprieve from banishment to her room. Her career as a spin control artist was cut short when her family moved to a two-story house, and her trucks would not roll safely down the stairs. Around the same time, she decided that Chip and Ken made a much cuter couple than Ken and Barbie and was perplexed when invitations to play Barbie dropped off. An unnamed number of years later, she’s happy to find other readers and writers who like to play in her world.

To learn more about K.A. Mitchell, please visit
www.kamitchell.com
. Send an email to K.A. Mitchell at
[email protected]
.

Look for these titles by K.A. Mitchell

Now Available:

Custom Ride

Hot Ticket

Diving in Deep

Regularly Scheduled Life

Collision Course

Chasing Smoke

An Improper Holiday

No Souvenirs

Life, Over Easy

Not Knowing Jack

When your lover becomes a stranger, trust is the weakest link of all.

Not Knowing Jack

© 2010 K.A. Mitchell

Bartender Tony Gemetti has it all: a rich, hot boyfriend, a McMansion in the ’burbs and unlimited sex in an expectation-free zone. He thought that was all he ever wanted out of any relationship—until Jack begins making excuses for frequent disappearances. Realizing he has more than his libido and enough drawers for his T-shirt collection riding on this relationship, Tony figures it’s time to find out what’s going on.

Jack Noble has spent his life hiding his real self behind a carefully created image. With Tony, he finally knows real freedom, real happiness. Now a past of buried secrets and lies is closing in, and no matter how hard he tries to stop it, the truth is tearing through. Once Tony learns what kind of man Jack really is, he won’t stay. Jack’s sure of it.

Suddenly the past shows up in a completely unexpected way, testing the boundaries of their old, coasting-along-on-fun relationship. Tony indeed finds that Jack isn’t the man he went looking for, but it’s too late. There’s too much at stake to just walk away. First, though, he has to make sure there are no lies left for Jack to hide behind.

Warning: Readers should be free of any heart condition that may be affected by a hero with an overactive imagination, painful back stories, and hot sex in a variety of athletic positions. Neither the author nor the publisher is responsible for any sudden or frequent urges to have children with Tony Gemetti.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Not Knowing Jack:

By the time Tony’s bartending shift was over at Hole in the Wall, he’d decided that Kyle was right. It was stupid not to come right out and ask Jack if something was going on. The whole thing was probably just his imagination, or maybe watching Kyle and Sean do their stupid breakup dance last year had given Tony an addiction to drama.

Even if Jack had stayed at the restaurant through the whole Sunday-night shift, he still would already be home and he usually waited up, watching TV and sipping his wine of the week. Tony would pour himself a glass, and then ask Jack in simple, easy-to-understand words what the hell was going on.

Tony had made out pretty good on tips for a Sunday, enough that he was that much closer to getting a sweet little something he’d seen online that would make Jack’s eyes bug out when Tony wore it. He was looking forward to that, despite Jack being opposed to Tony’s idea of a camera in the bedroom, or at least a few extra mirrors.