Heart on the Run (8 page)

His eyes were intent, focused on Chaz’s face as he assessed the results of each caress, and Chaz moaned again, this time from the sheer intensity of that gaze. This was what made the Craft Time assistant manager such a good lover… He threw his whole self into pleasure, not just his own but attaining that of his partner.

“
You do like that…” Sprocket murmured, squeezing again before releasing Chaz’s balls and sliding his hand up, around his straining cock. “What else do you like?”

“
You,” Chaz whispered. “I like you…the way you touch me, the way you feel under my hands.” He suited action to word and brought his hands up to skim Sprocket’s abs, over the furry chest, muscled shoulders, sliding them around the man’s neck and up into his hair.

He tugged, pulling Sprocket toward him until he could brush their mouths together and flick Sprocket’s lips with his tongue. “The way you taste…”

Honk.

Honk.

Chaz jumped…glanced around bemused. He was holding up traffic at a stoplight, lost in a daydream about Sprocket…

***

He was still flustered and probably blushing when he knocked on Sprocket’s door ten minutes later. Mason opened the door, a cheerful smile on his handsome face.

“
Heads up.” Forcing himself to behave casually,
Chaz flipped the unmarked black DVD case at Mason, who caught it deftly. He stooped to pick up the groceries he’d just spent hours searching out.  

“
What’s this?” Mason quirked a blond brow as he stepped back and allowed Chaz into the house.

“
I thought I’d introduce you to my doctor.” Chaz smiled and out of habit kicked off his shoes before padding down the hall in his stocking feet.

“
Oh yeah?” Mason followed on his heels.

They entered the big, airy kitchen and Chaz’s smile grew wider as he noticed Sprocket sitting on a chair turned backward, chin resting on the ladder-back, heels kicked up behind him. There was a small hole in the bottom of his sock and a faint hint of creamy flesh showed through. Chaz’s breath caught; his gut clenched. Since when were feet and old ratty socks sexy?

“
Yo, Sprocks, check it out.” The DVD case flipped through the air, landing in the middle of a pile of loose-leaf papers. “Chaz brought us a video of his doctor. You think it’s amateur porn?”

“
No!” Chaz shouted, shaking his head furiously. “I would never—”

“
Relax.” Sprocket twisted his head so he could look up at Chaz without lifting away from the chair, a quick grin flashing across his face. “He’s just kidding.”

“
Oh…yeah. I knew that.” Still, Chaz cast a skeptical glance at a chuckling Mason, who had thrown himself into his chair and stared glumly at a thick textbook.

“
It’s midterms,” Mason said as though that explained anything.

“
Well, I’ll be quiet and quick.” Chaz wondered if he should offer to just leave.

“
Don’t worry about it. I’m starving. Shawna let me cut out early tonight so I rushed home to finish my work, but haven’t snacked in anticipation of dinner.” Sprocket backed off his chair and stretched, reaching for the ceiling. “So, whatcha making?”

Before Chaz could answer, Sprocket had the bags out of his hands and on the counter. Chaz watched silently as his…friend…unloaded the groceries, identifying each item as he took it out of the bag.

“
Hmm…a dozen tomatoes, the biggest fucking mushrooms I’ve ever seen, moldy cheese…” He flashed a quick teasing grin at Chaz. “Some kind of fish… I think he’s trying to poison us.”

“
You’ll see.” Chaz couldn’t help smiling back. “It’s all local and sustainable.”

“
I don’t know what that means, but if it’s anything like last week… I’m sure it will be delicious.”

“
So…pardon me for butting in but…I’m dying to know. If this ain’t amateur porn… Then who
is
your doctor?”

“
Leonard McCoy of the Starship Enterprise. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

“
Dammit, Sprocket! I’m a student, not a sci-fi geek!”

Chaz laughed out loud. “That’s one of my favorite
Star Trek
tropes. I’m a doctor not a…”

“
Chef?” Sprocket suggested.

“
Physics whiz.” Mason nudged his textbook with a pencil.

“
Elevator, I think is the phrase from the series or one of them anyway. But you two go ahead and study. No, really, I’ve got this.” He braved contact by touching Sprocket lightly on the arm. “Go do your thing and let me do mine.”

***

Lydia glanced out the window again. If Sprocket hadn’t miscounted, she’d studied the sidewalk in front of the store five times already. It kinda reminded him of when Xander used to do that same exact thing in hopes of catching a peek at Dermot. Good thing Sprocket never pulled that move himself with a different bewildering cook.

Because, yeah, Sprocket didn’t do silly things like that.

Why would he have to? He had a sexy as hell sous chef coming to his house once a week, shouldn’t that appease any needs he had concerning Chaz?

Problem was it didn’t. It just made this damn game they were playing more obvious and a whole helluva lot more infuriating.

It seemed every time Sprocket instigated something more personal than their arrangement, Chaz sidelined him, using their Wednesday nights as an excuse.

Unsuccessfully, he had attempted to take Chaz out Thursday, the night after they dined on Chaz’s orgasmic Arctic Char with a black bean sauce over it—and really, who knew you could actually make a sauce out of beans?
“The key is to use dry saké in the sauce, not sweet…”

Sprocket couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how Chaz’s face lit up when they’d taken their first bites of the specially prepared dinner. Sprocket would do anything to keep that grin on Chaz’s face…even give up all hope of being intimate with the man again.

Sprocket sighed, no longer in the mood to turn his frown upside down as he cleared the top shelf of endcap A—the first display customers saw when they entered the store.

When Chaz cooked for him, he radiated good feels. When they had coffee together, catching up on the block gossip, or Sprocket ran over to
Alimentaire
to discuss decorations for the party, they enjoyed the conversations and time together—but those situations were always in a public setting with lots of onlookers. But when Sprocket got Chaz alone…when he breached Chaz’s personal space or stared at his plump lower lip a tad bit longer than acceptable or begged Chaz to stay for just one more episode of
Star Trek
or
Dr. Who
…smoke curled after the hasty exit Chaz made rushing to get away from the obviously dangerous Sprocket.

The writing was on the wall in a fluorescent fire-engine red—back the fuck off.

Not willing to ruin the pseudo-comfortable friendship they’d spent time rebuilding, Sprocket firmly explained to his treacherous libido that Chaz was off limits to him. The man was cemented in the friend zone column, never to be moved back to the exclusive holy-shit-how-many-orgasms-did-we-just-have column. Which, if Sprocket cared to admit, no other name besides Chaz’s ever had (or probably ever would) hold a prestigious spot in that column.

So, unlike Lydia who just glanced out the window for the sixth time, Sprocket would not be joining her in hopes of perhaps seeing the man that ran through his brain on a repeating loop.

Judging by the smile on Lydia’s face, it looked like the sixth time was the charm. “Sprocket, I’m gonna take my lunch break now.” She reached under the register and pulled out her purse.

Putting the skull and pumpkin silicone candy molds aside, Sprocket wandered up to the register where Lydia quickly checked her face in her mirror compact.

“
Really? It isn’t even noon yet. Hot plans for lunch?” He nonchalantly looked out the huge window, noticing a uniformed Officer Tod Dodgers loitering in front of the store.

Lydia swung her gaze from Tod to Sprocket and back again. Finally, she sighed. “Okay fine, he might’ve asked me if he could take me to an early lunch before he goes on shift. I only agreed because he always is so kind walking me to my car.” She quickly added the last sentence, but she wasn’t fooling Sprocket.

“
Grab me a chicken salad on croissant?”

She smiled up at him. “Absolutely. No mayo and extra pickle?”

“
A woman after my heart.” He winked at her as he grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket.

“
You better keep your money right where it is. Tod’s waiting. I’ll be back in thirty.”

“
Now, honey, don’t rush it.” He laughed.

She humphed as she hurried out the door and Sprocket watched her walk over to Tod and thread her arm through his. They walked down the street together. It was a nice sight.

Turning around, he realized he was left alone in the store, and had to man the registers. “Well, damn it,” he mumbled under his breath. Luckily Xander was supposed to be back from the bank run soon, and he could pawn off the tedious position on the manager.

Another good thing, Tuesday mornings were a slow time, so only two regulars roamed the store at the moment. He went back to his last minute Halloween impulse-buy display, keeping an eye on the counter.

But it didn’t matter if he was watching the front or not, there was no way in hell anyone could miss the mountain of a man who’d just entered the store. Sprocket didn’t know the guy personally, but had seen him enough times around town. Specifically in the store, usually friendly chatting with Xander, so his size didn’t intimidate Sprocket.

In fact, even though the huge brick shithouse wasn’t Sprocket’s normal kink of a body type, he had no issue with hustling over and ogling…er, helping the gentleman.

“
Hello, welcome to Craft Time, what’s your pleasure?” Sprocket purred.

The guy looked around the store, and Sprocket thought, at that height, he probably had no problem seeing down every single aisle. “Is Shawna around?” he asked.

“
Holy shit, you’re big.” Sprocket widened his eyes, fisting his hands to stop from covering his mouth and bringing more notice to his stupid comment.

“
Holy shit, you’re small,” the stranger retorted with a wry grin.

Oh, so he was the playful type. Sprocket should’ve guessed that with all the times Xander and the stranger laughed together. Well, Sprocket would happily oblige him. “That’s not what he said…”

The man cocked his head to the side, studying Sprocket from head to foot and back. Sprocket practically felt the man’s gaze linger on his eyebrow piercing before skittering across the collar of his shirt to glimpse the ink just slightly poking out. From there his look darted directly to Sprocket’s wrists where the edge of his tattoo sleeve peeked out from under his long-sleeve tee. All the while Sprocket simply stood there with his hip popped out against the waist-high counter.

“
Hey,” the guy asked, “are you dating Xander?”

Oh boy, no taking an idiot question like that back. “Let me guess, Xander’s the only gay guy you know?” Sprocket countered.

“
Um…I’m gonna say the answer to both our questions is no?”

“
Ooooh, you’ve got brains with your brawn. Nice.” Sprocket winked, trying to show no hard feelings.

“
Why do I feel like I’ve made a complete ass out of myself in less than two minutes? Sorry about that. My name’s Craig.” He stuck his hand out in greeting.