Bound by Lies (37 page)

He takes his first break before the pre-dinner rush can hit, finding solace in being by himself in the break room. The clink, clatter and shouting from the kitchen along with the soft, constant noise from the bar fills the air.

It’s the rhythm of life, the combination of the energy of each of the fifty or so people in the building. Brayden loved the beach for its open expanses, the huge breadth of the sky, infinite and beautiful above them, the limitless reaches of the ocean before them and the decadent tranquility. There is no tranquility at a bar, except maybe at the bottom of a tall glass of alcohol, but that’s not what he needs. He needs the water, the feel of it engulfing him, the satisfaction of the struggle to work his body through it, the push and burn of swimming. With the balance and focus he finds with surfing, it’s like he’s an elemental part of the world rather than lost and floundering in it.

His mp3 player is in his bag, so he gets it out and sips from a tall glass of water. Sitting in a chair at the small table in the break room, he puts in his earbuds. He turns up some mellow, psychedelic rock, props a leg up on the edge of the table, lets his head fall back, and tries to meditate.

The music fills his head and it’s good, or at least good enough. It takes him somewhere else, away from his troubles. Focusing on his breathing—in and out, in and out—he imagines the ocean flowing over him, cleansing him, filling his pores, buoying him up.

It’s nice. For a small stretch of unmarked time, he begins to relax.

Then he realizes he’s not alone.

That awareness is a tickle under his skin, an extrasensory understanding of his surroundings. He opens his eyes and sees Jenner sitting next to him not a foot away, watching.

It makes him feel self-conscious. Frowning slightly, trying to act like it doesn’t bother him, Brayden asks, “Yeah?”

“Nothing. Don’t let me disturb you.”

“I can’t meditate with you staring at me like that.”

“I’m not staring.”

Brayden’s right eyebrow rises with weary disbelief.

The opened break room door is to Jenner’s back. He glances over his shoulder at it, possibly realizing the danger it poses, but then he just looks back at Brayden like he can’t quite bring himself to care enough to get up to close it. There’s a bizarrely guilty expression flickering across Jenner’s face, as if Brayden caught him in the act at something. Brayden smiles slightly despite his annoyance from being disturbed and the accrued weariness from a long day and asks, “What? Tell me.”

“Nothing.”

“What?” he presses, shifting in the chair. His pants leg pulls a little higher, revealing the bare, tan skin of his ankle, covered in peach fuzz until he gets around to waxing it smooth again. He’s wearing short socks that don’t even show above the top of his sneakers. Like his skin is a magnet, it pulls Jenner’s gaze right there.

“God, I really want to suck on your ankle,” Jenner says in his smooth, deep voice on the exhale.

Brayden laughs, his smile growing with his amusement.

“My
ankle
?” he chuckles, because it’s ridiculous. But Jenner isn’t smiling at all. His eyes are dark with lust and his gaze steady.

The feeling overtakes Brayden again, one that has become a regular feature in his life; hyperawareness of how much bigger Jenner is than himself. He’s outmanned and so much smaller that any physical struggle between them would be laughable. Memories of each time Jenner has held him down and done exactly what he wanted fill Brayden’s mind and senses. He feels strung out over that counter again, like a helpless, mischievous child being made to bear his punishment as Jenner’s hips spank Brayden’s ass while he force-fucks him.

Breath coming quicker, skin heating fast, cock swelling, Brayden asks, “Shut the door?”

“Fuck the door,” Jenner says on a sigh, drawing closer, grabbing Brayden’s leg and lowering his mouth to it with a low moan. Jenner’s eyes flutter closed with greedy, heady desire as he seals his lips in an open-mouthed kiss to Brayden’s ankle bone, then drags the flat of his tongue over the spot before doing it again, but sucking harder, his left hand kneading the muscle of Brayden’s calf.

Brayden laughs a little, breathlessly, as his whole body reacts to the sudden bombardment of sensation, lighting up his nerve endings from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Blood rushes in a torrent to his cock.

“Yeah, okay, that’s kinda hot,” he says around a gasp as teeth scrape lightly over bone and the tip of Jenner’s tongue drags in a swirling line over the skin.

“Wanna suck every inch of you, everywhere. Suck your toes, your earlobes, your fingers. Lick your stomach, the insides of your thighs. Wanna pull your ass open and eat you out, make you scream.”

Nearly panting, Brayden gets dizzy with the pounding of blood under his skin, the stiff, heavy weight of his erection, and the smooth, rolling music lilting in his ears under Jenner’s low rumble of a voice, filled with temptation. Brayden doesn’t protest or say a word as Jenner gets up, striding quickly to the door.

Swinging it closed, Jenner stops suddenly. There’s a prolonged pause before he shuts and locks the break room’s door.

Then he’s on Brayden, pushing his chair roughly back from the table, the metal legs screeching over the linoleum floor. Jenner guides Brayden’s thighs apart as Brayden fumbles at his fly, unfastening the button, tugging at the zipper. Easing his cock free, Brayden aligns it with Jenner’s opened mouth which lowers immediately onto it, sealing with a hum of hunger around him.

Jenner knocks Brayden’s hand away, taking control. He sets a steady pace, head bobbing in Brayden’s lap as he sucks him raw.

Brayden lets out a long moan, knowing he shouldn’t, unable to hold it in anyway. His whole body wants to curl up around the wet glove of Jenner’s mouth on his dick. Grabbing a handful of Jenner’s curls, urging on his pace with gentle pressure to the back of Jenner’s head, Brayden gives in to it. His hips chase up off the chair, thrusting in when Jenner’s mouth lowers, taking him in to the root.

Jenner’s fingers yank impatiently at Brayden’s jeans, getting them down farther. Then they knead at and stroke over his skin, the sides of his ass, and the undersides of his thighs. Grabbing hold of Jenner’s shoulder with his left hand, Brayden scrambles for purchase. Everything in him, every thought, every drop of blood, tries to funnel down between his legs to further engorge his dick. He tries to spread wider and Jenner moans, the sound vibrating up Brayden’s shaft, making him groan and buck.

It’s incredible. Jenner’s passion for him makes Brayden feel like he’s not lost at all. The world hasn’t defeated him, ripping everything of meaning away as soon as he begins to truly appreciate it. With Jenner, Brayden feels powerful, important, cherished, and most of all, lucky.

Panting roughly, pulling Jenner’s head down onto him faster, thrusting up against his lips, stuffing him full of his cock, Brayden gets desperate. He doesn’t care. He stops being shy and hesitant. All that matters is getting off. Jenner strokes him counter to his every suck, his fingers getting slippery with saliva, the obscene sounds his mouth make fill the air. As Brayden gets close, curling forward around Jenner’s head, legs drawn up, Jenner grunts hard and twists his middle finger up through Brayden’s asshole. With a startled gasp, Brayden feels it breach him. A subsequent breathless laugh turns quickly into a throaty groan. The finger slides deeper before tugging out. He clenches around it as it starts to pump in and out of him.

Eyes rolling up, Brayden’s head falls back and he comes, unloading over Jenner’s tongue. One of the earbuds has fallen out, allowing him to better hear Jenner’s grunt as he swallows and feels the contraction of Jenner’s throat working around Brayden’s cockhead.

“Holy shit.” Brayden gasps.

His body pulses, shuddering as he comes down, spent and blissful. Before he can fully recover, though, Jenner looks right at him and whispers, “Finger yourself. Suck on it first to get it wet. That’s it.”

Brayden sucks on his index finger, staring avidly at a glistening smear of semen on Jenner’s lower lip. He draws the finger from his mouth and lets Jenner guide the hand down. Then, holding Brayden’s hand, Jenner presses the finger slowly through Brayden’s rim.

“Perfect. That’s it. Hold this leg up. Good.” Jenner helps Brayden get a good hold on his left leg, under the knee, with the other one braced on the floor. While Jenner keeps a hand locked to Brayden’s chair so that he doesn’t fall over, he pulls out his own straining erection and starts to furiously tug on it with his saliva-wet hand, staring as Brayden fingers himself. Brayden’s come-slick, flaccid penis lies against his leg. It jumps as Brayden’s finger moves, working in and out. Jenner grunts, stroking faster as Brayden’s finger buries itself to the hilt. Closing the gap between them, Jenner kisses him, swallowing the soft gasps Brayden makes. Brayden’s hand moves between them as it pumps. He tastes his come on Jenner’s tongue. They kiss and Jenner beats off.

“Come inside me,” Brayden gasps, speaking very softly. “Want you to.”

Jenner’s brow creases with a frown, suffused with such exquisite ecstasy that it makes Brayden feel like he’s falling.

Ignoring the request, Jenner surges forward, kissing Brayden breathless. Brayden inhales sharply through his nose as Jenner nearly tips the chair over. Jenner’s dick, hot and stiff, slides over Brayden’s bared pelvis, beside where his arm juts down and his hand works busily. Jenner presses his member against Brayden, rubbing off on him. Their cocks squeeze and drag against each other. Moaning, Brayden feels Jenner climax with a hard shudder and a sharp inhale.

Catching his breath, burying his face in the side of Brayden’s neck, Jenner whispers, “Didn’t want to hurt you. Didn’t want you to have to finish your shift with come leaking from your ass either, as awesome as that’d be for me to imagine.”

They use Brayden’s overnight bag and some tissues to clean up, changing their shirts as well. It only takes a minute. Then Jenner checks the area to ensure they’re covered. When he unlocks and opens the door, Max is standing there hidden slightly by shadows. There’s a phone in her hand, but it seems to have been completely forgotten. She stares into the break room at both of them. She doesn’t say a word, but Brayden can tell by her expression that she heard everything, and stayed there so that she could hear.

With a very small, but very satisfied smirk, Jenner gives her a wink and goes past her to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Brayden is standing at his locker, retying his hair at the nape of his neck as she walks in. His skin feels too warm and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His lips feel swollen and sore from being kissed so hard and his eyelids feel heavy, weighed down with sleepiness from his satisfied, post-coital bliss. The ghosts of Jenner’s fingers, mouth and cock slide and move over Brayden’s body, distracting in the best of ways, making it difficult for him to get embarrassed about Max overhearing them. Logically, he knows the room must smell of their sex, and he should care about that too, but somehow he doesn’t.

“How’s it goin’, loverboy?” Max asks.

“Can’t complain,” he smiles back at her.

He tucks his shirt back in to his waistband and ties on an apron, giving her occasional upward glances as she just stands there, looking up and down his body. After a moment, she seems to remember herself and says, “’Scuse me,” as she slides past him to lock her phone back inside her locker.

Seeing the hard set of her jaw, Brayden pauses before going in search of the bathroom himself. A blush creeps up Max’s neck, making her cheeks pink. His voice is a low, raspy vibration in the air, mixing with the remembered echoes of his and Jenner’s filthy whispers and moans as he says to her, “So, I guess you may have heard that.”

Brayden may be a lot shorter than the other guys, but he’s still taller than Max. She looks discomfited as he moves closer to keep the conversation private. She glances over at his body, her gaze slipping down, down, then snapping back to her locker.

A blond tendril falls beside his face, getting free of the tie. He instinctively pushes it back over his ear. The hand falls away, drawing Max’s eye to a love bite on the side of his neck.

“No, really, it’s fine. You’re not exactly the first one to get a BJ in the break room.” She claps her mouth shut, closing her eyes with mortification and a soft groan. “Sorry. None of my business.”

“So, we’re cool? I don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable. ’Cause I know all about uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, Bray. Really,” she fumbles, trying not to look directly at him while she says it. She seems to grow increasingly shyer the longer he looks at her. And the shyer she gets, the more he feels like he needs to apologize. He inches closer, completely aware of all of the flirting that they’ve indulged in with each other, and how that flirting might make it weird for her to be so aware of what he’s doing with Jenner.
You
used to think you’d be the one on your knees for me
, Brayden realizes. Max’s breath quickens and she glances over at Brayden’s crotch again. “It’s not exactly a hardship to overhear two hot guys playing swallow the sausage.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, then starts to smile knowingly, doing nothing to help dull the force of Max’s blush.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolds.

“You like me, Max?”

“Yes, our unrequited love is deeply tragic.” After minutes of struggle, she finally gets the damned locker opened. Tossing the phone inside, she closes the metal door and secures the padlock with a
snick
. “Get back to work, Romeo.”

He doesn’t go. He just stands there smirking, amused by the affect he’s having on her.

“Well? Go!” She grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around. With a firm swat to his ass, she sends him on his way. “Go!”

Laughing, he heads out from the break room. In the hall, Jenner watches on, towering over them both. Brayden heads to the right, making for the sinks in the bathroom. But, before he can, Jenner catches his arm, holds him there, and asks, “Did I just see Max spank you?”

“Yes,” Max says, bearing left. “And I’ll do it again if you both don’t stop fucking around and get back to your jobs.”