Food for Thought (7 page)

“Ah….” Keegan slid his hand down Emmett’s flank and then reached under him to gently rub the fur of his balls. Emmett’s moan was muffled in Keegan’s flesh, but he spread his knees, giving Keegan access to anything he wanted to play with down there.

Keegan took the hint and fingered him, dilated, sloppy, sensitive, and Emmett moaned again. Not fair! He lifted his head then and lunged, heading for Keegan’s inflating cock and swallowing it down in one thrust.

Musky come, bitter, but Emmett didn’t care. Keegan was stroking his cock and tormenting his entrance at the same time. Emmett hadn’t sucked Keegan off, hadn’t rimmed him, hadn’t tasted his large, low-hanging balls. Emmett wanted it all, wanted all of Keegan against his skin, in his mouth, in his body. His body shook from sensitivity and arousal and he carefully pulled away from Keegan’s ministrations and maneuvered himself between Keegan’s spread thighs. Then he pushed at the back of them, pulling Keegan’s cheeks apart so he could burrow his tongue between them and rim him until he moaned.

He did more than moan.

He talked dirty.

“You know how to do this? Of course you know how to do this. Hiding yourself this whole time—I felt like a pervert, do you know that? Wanting to touch you—
dreaming
of touching you. Of course you knew. And now you’re licking my asshole like you were born to—
augh
!”

Emmett had pulled back, popped his thumb in his mouth, and then used it, thrusting inside slowly to soften Keegan’s rim and make him ready.

“Of course I was born to do this,” Emmett said, feeling wicked and at peace with himself, right now, what he was doing. “I’m gay—I
love
your body.”

“I love what you do to it,” Keegan gasped.

Emmett kept thrusting in with his thumb, while he used his other hand to stroke Keegan’s cock, which had grown, was fully erect by now, trembling with every stroke.

“Pass me the lube, Kee,” Emmett asked politely. Keegan fumbled for where Emmett had dropped it, and then slapped it on his stomach.

Emmett took it and dumped a healthy dollop down Keegan’s backside, pulling his thumb out and using his two fingers to spread it around inside.

“Nnng…,” Keegan breathed. “I love this… you’re good at it… so good….”

Emmett dropped his head so he could taste Keegan’s cock again. Wow, it was big, and he liked the way it stretched his lips as he slid them across the flared bell. Keegan grabbed the back of his head and held him for a moment, thrusting upward in short, awkward strokes, and for a minute Emmett complied. Then he pulled back again and pulled his wayward fingers out, so he could slick up his own cock.

“I
am
good at this,” Emmett said shyly, lining up with Keegan’s entrance. “I really loved doing it.”

“Then why’d you stop?” Keegan opened his eyes, was looking at Emmett intently, but Emmett couldn’t hold his gaze too long.

“Never… the right… person…,” Emmett gasped, sliding in a moment at a time. Oh God.
So
good. Warm and tight around his cock, like Emmett could bury himself inside and never be let go.

“
I’m
the right person,” Keegan insisted, his words coming out all breath as Emmett slid home. “Look at me and say that.”

Emmett forced his eyes open, stopping in the middle of what he was doing just so he could see Keegan’s wide-eyed sincerity, and answer it.

“Of course you are,” he said, but then his eyes fluttered closed, and his hips absolutely, positively, had to thrust faster.

Keegan evidently thought so too, because he started issuing orders. “Faster, Em—faster… oh God… you fuck me
so good
!”

Keegan was lost in it, his body shuddering, his cock leaking as it flopped on his stomach, and Emmett was lost in Keegan.

Later, he would remember the sound of the front door opening, and Christine’s voice narrating the tempestuous passage from the kitchen down the hallway.

“Emmett? Emmett? Oh my God, what a mess? Are you cleaning up—oh hell, Em, look at your carpet! I hope this isn’t blood. Jesus, are you here?”

But he didn’t really register any of that, because he was buried in Keegan’s ass and lost and found there, home as he never had been, when his bedroom door swung open, and Christine said, “
Oh my God
!” right when Keegan shouted, “
Don’t stop fucking me
!”

Emmett’s first instinct, of course, was to hide, but he didn’t do that. Instead, he continued to thrust slowly inside Keegan, waiting for Keegan’s brain to catch up.

“Emmett? What in the
hell
—?”

Emmett dipped his shoulder down, obscuring Keegan from view. “Chris?” he said, feeling ludicrous, a real person caught in a sitcom, a joke told around the dinner table, his ass hanging out for the world to see. “Chris, could you go into the living room for a minute? Kee and I need some time.”

Christine fled, slamming the door behind her, and
that
was when Keegan must have realized why Emmett was stopping.

“Chris?” he asked, his ass squeezing Emmett’s cock, even as Emmett softened and slid out. “Chris
tine
?”

He looked frantically sideways, but Emmett had slid that way, draping himself over Keegan’s body, hiding him, sheltering him from Christine’s well-placed anger, which should be Emmett’s burden to bear, and Emmett’s alone.

“Kee?” he asked, touching Keegan’s face in a little bit of panic. “Baby, I’ve got to go break up with her. I’m sorry. I’ve got to go man up and tell her it’s not her fault. And not yours either. It’s all on me.”

Keegan grimaced unhappily. “Why couldn’t you have just told her? Told
me
?” he demanded unhappily, and Emmett felt unexpected tears burn his eyes.

“Because I never told
anyone
,” he said, wishing he’d stopped to explain before he got lost in Keegan’s body one more time. “Not Vinnie, not my father—not
anyone
. Jordyn and I barely said it to ourselves.” He kissed Keegan on the mouth then, knowing he might have to work for the privilege again when this mess was over, and then rolled over and grabbed a towel to wrap around his hips so he could go out and confront what he’d done.

C
HRISTINE
WAS
on her knees in the living room, going through his DVDs and pulling out the ones she’d brought over to watch.

The others she chucked across the room, where they hit the wall. Some of the cases had broken open, and the far wall was a mess of DVD covers and shiny—probably scratched—discs.

She was crying.

Emmett padded into the room with the towel tight around his waist, wondering if he shouldn’t have taken the time to dress, but he figured that just would have been more time for Christine to imagine the worst. Imagine him and Keegan laughing at her, imagine him thinking she was foolish, when she wasn’t the foolish one at all.

When he spoke, she didn’t startle, which confirmed his suspicion that she knew he’d walked in from pretty much the moment he’d arrived.

“When you tell your friends how this went down,” he said quietly, “you can tell them anything you want—I deserve it. I just want you to know something important. This is
not
your fault. You weren’t being stupid, or blind, or even cheated on, at least not until this afternoon. I
wanted
to want you. You’re terrific. You’re beautiful and awesome and amazing. And I thought that if I was going to settle down with a girl, it would
have
to be you, because you are really wonderful. But—” He swallowed. “—I just never was meant to settle down with a girl. And I kept lying to myself about that. And now I’ve hurt us all. And I’m sorry, but that’s not going to feel any better, so, uhm, you know. Keep doing what you’re doing. Just… well, George is in the bathroom, so if you could leave her out of this, I’d be really grateful.”

He heard her sob, and saw her shoulders shake. He couldn’t stand seeing her cry.

“I… can I put my arm over your shoulder?” he asked, feeling pathetic. “I… I hate to see you so sad.”

He barely saw her nod, and he was grateful that he’d wiped himself down before he’d come out into the living room. Clutching the towel around his hips he knelt down next to her and looped an arm around her shoulder. She couldn’t look at him, staring instead at her prettily manicured hands as she rooted through the DVDs.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me?” she asked, her voice broken and clogged. “Why… why did I have to walk in and see…?”

Oh God. He was such an asshole. “What you saw today was… was… the equivalent of the breaking of the dam of denial,” he said, and felt worse when she laughed at that, the phlegm clogging in her throat. “I… I’ve been
trying
to fall in love with you, but what I was really doing was—”

“Falling in love with Keegan.” She half laughed.

“Yeah. I’m sure on some level you’re not shocked,” he said dryly, and she made that hideous snorking sound again.

“No,” she agreed. “Not shocked. But… but… we could have been
friends.
I didn’t need a boyfriend, but now….”

Oh hell. “Look—maybe give it a month? If you can’t look at me without hating me in a month, I’ll transfer out. I’ll… I’ll find another job….” Oh, that was hard. Intel was a sweet company to work for. “I’ll just leave, and you can forget I ever fucked with your heart.”

She started to cry again. “You’re making it hard to hate you, and I hate you more for it.”

“Well, hate me!” he said, and he realized he was crying too. “I deserve it. I’ve always deserved it. Keegan’s gonna hate me too, because this….” He waved his hand at the mess. “This is all mine!”

She looked around and made another one of those phlegm-filled laugh sounds.

“Yes. And these DVDs are all mine, and amazingly enough, I don’t give a fuck about whether Keegan hates you or not.”

Well, that was how it should be. “Fair enough.”

She sniffled. “I lied,” she said, standing up. Finally she looked at him, and it was as bad as he’d imagined—red eyes, mascara running down her face, swollen nose, snot, the works. “I hope he loves you, Emmett. Because this could be the one shitty thing you’ve done in your entire life. But I can’t stick around to find out.”

“I’ll put in my transfer pap—”

She shook her head. “Don’t bother. Tacoma asked me to transfer up two weeks ago. I was putting it off because….” She shrugged and grimaced. “But it’s a promotion. Now I can take it. Take care, Emmett.”

“If you ever forgive me, could you—” Oh God—she was going to be gone for good, and he’d miss her. “Could you let me know where you land?”

His voice broke too, and she suddenly rushed him and hugged him, sweat, sex, betrayal, and all.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah. But it’s gonna be a while.”

“Yeah.”

And then she left, the door slamming behind her. Emmett sank to the floor with a sigh, and started putting together his DVD cases.

“What is it about you?” Keegan asked, coming in from the hallway.

Emmett looked up at him and his jaw dropped, his face going a little dreamy. He’d showered just enough to wash the food off, and put another one of Emmett’s work shirts on, as well as a pair of Emmett’s briefs. The shirt hung open, and the briefs were a little bit looser around his hips, but he looked sexy and still debauched. The fair skin of his throat showed razor burn from Emmett’s chin, and his hair was finger combed but still mussed.

We were inside each other.

Emmett wasn’t sure what he
should
be thinking of feeling, but that one thought reminded him that he still had Keegan’s come running down the inside of his thigh, and that his few chest hairs were flaked with his own.

“What is it about me, what?” he asked, feeling dumb.

“That was a classic scenario—that girl had a
right
to go flaming bitch on you, but she couldn’t. Why is that?”

Emmett smiled at him, thinking he was beautiful. “I only care about
really
good people.”

“I’m not that good,” Keegan said flatly, walking into the living room. He sank to his knees next to Emmett and inhaled deeply.

“You still smell like sex,” he said, his voice a throaty rumble. Delicately, he fished out the DVD of
Brokeback Mountain
and put it in its case. “You smell like me.”

“I know. I’m glad. But you don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t have to do what?”

Emmett swallowed, because he really didn’t want Keegan to go anywhere, but God—hadn’t he been unfair enough already?

“Help me clean up my mess. You could go home, and I’ll come over tomorrow night, and actually see your roommates and your house for once, and take you out on a date-date.”

Keegan looked around Emmett’s once-pristine, whitely carpeted, whitely tiled house. Beet porridge coated the kitchen: walls, floor, and holy God, the ceiling, the refrigerator, and even the carpeting that edged the tile. That didn’t include the beets and cookie dough and flour tracking down the hallway into the bedroom. It looked like the site of a vegetable massacre, or an Easter egg dye disaster of epic proportions.

And they both knew how the bedroom looked.

“Tempting,” Keegan said grimly. “Believe me. But it’s not just your mess, honey. We both made it.”

Some of Emmett’s resolve to be strong leaked out of him. “Kee?”

“Yeah?”

“That first day you came over, when I was crying about my dad—what would you have done if I’d made a pass at you?”

“I would have gone back to my house, gotten some condoms, and broken up with my boyfriend by text,” Keegan said promptly.

 Emmett snickered helplessly into his shoulder, and the laughter broke in the middle. By the time Keegan wrapped his arm around his shoulder, he was crying. Not for Chris, not exactly, but for the relief of the breaking dam.

Eventually Keegan shooed him into the shower, and when he got out they got to work on the house. George chased Keegan around as he mopped up the beet porridge on the kitchen floor, at one point skidding on the tile into the cabinets. When she recovered, she leaped up, hissed at Keegan, and ran away, leaving Keegan giggling helplessly over his mop.