Chapter Eight #3
Truth told the scene was a bit odd. It was a garage; Jem had anticipated a garage band.
It was a sort of Postmodern Jukebox knockoff group, playing modern songs in older styles.
He hadn’t expected that to be River’s thing, but maybe he needed to reevaluate, because River just said, “I love this song,” and hauled Jem into his arms.
With all the changes—not to mention trying to keep River from steering them into other dancers—it took Jem several bars to recognize the Taylor Swift tune.
“Just full of surprises,” he murmured, and laughed when River dipped him.
“You’re a maniac. Also keep in mind I can only bend so far in these pants before I bust a seam. ”
“Oh, challenge accepted.” River pulled him into a two-step, then seemed surprised at how easily Jem kept up. “Don’t tell me you went to college on a dance scholarship.”
Part of Jem recognized that they’d thrown out the rules of the game; River was only supposed to get one guess per category.
But he was enjoying himself too much to care.
“Nah. Remnant of my misspent youth.” Someone had to charm the older women at his father’s fancy parties.
Besides, Jem made bank on the dumb bets he and Andrew made about it. “And I’m not that good.”
River slipped the tips of two fingers under the hem of Jem’s shirt again, just above the curve of his ass. “You feel pretty good.”
“I do,” Jem agreed boldly and washed with heat when River looked at him with dark eyes.
River pulled him in closer, and the dance turned to more of a sway. A grinding sway, in fact. Jem had thought River smelled good, but the way his body felt against Jem’s might be better.
Parts of him were certainly noticing more than others. Hopefully his tight pants would prove useful for this one thing.
“It wasn’t a team sport.” River spun Jem around and reeled him in so that his back was to River’s chest. “You don’t have bro-y enough vibes.”
“Bro-y enough vibes.” What even. Jem was glad River couldn’t see the stupid grin on his face. “You’re right, though. Not a team sport.”
“And I feel like I would have heard of you if you were a swimmer. You’d be in a calendar or something. So maybe track.”
“You’re obsessed with the idea of the little shorts, huh?”
Another spin. This time they ended up face-to-face. If there were other people in this garage, Jem had forgotten them. “You’re going to tell me there weren’t any little shorts, aren’t you?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“That does narrow it down, at least,” River said with a sigh that tickled across Jem’s collarbones. “No track and field.”
“Running sucks.” Jem focused on the idea of running in these jeans, hoping that might dissuade his dick from trying to get hard. It didn’t work.
“Agreed.”
The song ended. The woman at the microphone said, “We’re gonna slow it down some for the lovers out there,” and then the guitar kicked in with a Dove Cameron song Jem vaguely remembered as—
Oh.
As being particularly suggestive.
“I don’t know,” River murmured as he turned Jem in his arms again. Jem was pretty tall, but River had an inch or two on him—just enough for River to put his mouth next to Jem’s ear. “I don’t think the singer’s clothes would fit you. You’d look good in them, though.”
Jem swallowed hard as River’s nose brushed his neck.
Tight denim was not going to cut it. Much more of this and Jem would be not just visibly hard, but visibly leaking.
He took a shuddering breath as River’s fingertips dipped just below the waist of his jeans. “Dresses are your thing, not mine. But I don’t think I’m the—the person she’s talking to.”
“I’d never leave you alone long enough for anyone to try to take you anyway.”
The singer’s sultry voice washed over River’s as she promised to do all the things someone’s boyfriend wouldn’t—which Jem did not need to think about right now. “You realize I have a—a day job.”
Jesus, why was it so hot in here?
“You don’t have to.” River’s teeth grazed the shell of his ear. “I could pay you to spend all… day… with me instead.”
Fuck, okay, Jem didn’t want to do that, he liked his job, but apparently his dick didn’t care what he wanted, because that offer made it blurt precome.
This situation had become unsustainable. River might be an exhibitionist, but Jem wasn’t. He took a bracing breath and gently pried River’s hands off his hips. “I need the bathroom.”
He didn’t flee, exactly. But he was aware of the heat in his face as well as in his pants, and he kept his head down as he navigated the stupid huge house to find the nearest bathroom. When he reached it, he closed the door behind him and put his hands on the counter, breathing heavily.
Okay. No harm done. He needed time and space to cool down, that’s all.
He’d splash some cold water on his face, maybe shove his pants down and throw some cold water on his crotch too if his dick didn’t get the memo.
Was there a hair dryer in here? Or like, some extra towels?
Because there was no way he was going to get his pants back up if he was wet.
He closed his eyes. He could still hear the garage band covering “Boyfriend.” He could still feel River’s chest at his back, River’s fingers teasing down his hipbones.
Could still hear River’s voice in his ear.
“Jem.”
A knock at the door. “Jem, are you in there?”
Fuck. Jem pressed his hands to his eyes and stifled a sound of mortification. “Yeah.”
“Can I come in?”
It wasn’t like he could get any more embarrassed. He’d already gotten a boner and run away about it.
Jem unlocked the door. Defiantly, he made himself look River in the eye. If he wanted to say something about Jem abandoning him or having some kind of wardrobe malfunction—
“Hey,” River said, looking nowhere but Jem’s eyes. His own were wide and dark, his lips glistening like he’d just wet them. The scared-rabbit thump of Jem’s heart slowed. “Can I, uh—can I make a guess?”
He wanted to play the game now? When Jem was so hard in a film producer’s bathroom he was in danger of passing out from lack of blood to the brain? “Okay?”
River took another step forward.
The bathroom wasn’t that small. It was actually probably the same size as Jem’s kitchen. But right now River was taking up all the available space. Jem had nowhere to go except back into the wall or forward into River. He wanted to do both. He didn’t want to do either.
He stayed frozen in place as River raised a hand and cupped his jawline, still searching his eyes.
River’s thumb brushed the sensitive skin between Jem’s lower lip and his chin. “You, uh.” Finally River broke eye contact, just long enough to stare hungrily at Jem’s mouth. “You really like bathroom handies.”
Jem couldn’t have said if it was arousal or surprise that made him open his mouth, but either way River took it as an invitation. He ducked his head and pressed his lips over Jem’s, pushing Jem back into the wall as he did.
It was all Jem could do to put his arms around River’s shoulders and hold on as his knees weakened and his head emptied. His dick filled and River devoured him—first his lips, and then his tongue, and then the kiss broke and River left a trail of hot, wet bites along Jem’s jawline to his ear.
“Yeah?” River stilled with his nose pressing against Jem’s pulse point.
Right, Jem needed to—“Love ’em,” he managed, stretching his neck to try to coax River into kissing it again.
“God, you’re perfect,” he rasped as he tore one-handed at the front of Jem’s pants. Jem would’ve helped him, but he couldn’t even feel his hands. “It’s like you were made just for me.”
He said it just as he peeled Jem’s pants down far enough to wrap a hand around his cock. Any regrets Jem might’ve had about how much he’d leaked flew out the window with his last braincell when River spread the precum down his dick to slick the way.
Jem’s head hit the wall. He didn’t feel that either. “River,” he gasped, then bit down on the sound because they were in a bathroom at a party like a couple of teenagers and he didn’t want to be overheard.
River pulled his mouth away from Jem’s neck long enough to spit on his hand.
Then he went right back to playing Jem like one of his instruments.
Every time he swiped his thumb over the head, Jem’s legs tried to give out; only his arms around River’s neck and River’s hand on his cock were keeping him upright.
“Look at you,” River crooned.
Jem was sure that was rhetorical. Of course River was looking at him, but he surely didn’t expect Jem to? Except then River turned them around, sliding between Jem and the wall and tilting Jem’s chin up with one hand so he was looking in the mirror.
Oh God. Jem’s breath stuttered as River’s lips found his neck again. He looked wrecked—flushed red to match River’s shirt, pupils blown wide, lips wet and swollen. His jeans were locked tight around his thighs, his cock jutting out of River’s closed fist, red and leaking.
Jem threw his head back against River’s chest as River jerked him off. “Oh fuck.”
“Yeah, sunshine? You gonna come for me?”
Jem clamped his mouth shut on a desperate whine and sagged against River’s chest as he spilled over his fingers, shaking with the release, stars dancing in front of his eyes. River didn’t stop pumping him until Jem batted at his hand, overstimulated and overwhelmed.
“Jesus.” River yanked a hand towel off the counter and cleaned his hand, then gently wiped the come from Jem’s dick before kissing him again. “You needed that, huh?”
Jem’s chest was still heaving, his head spinning as he fought to regain control of his motor functions. “Um.”
River chuckled. It was a good sound. Jem soaked it in as River tugged his jeans back up over his ass. “I think we managed to spare your clothes.”
God, Jem would be so pissed if he got come on any of this. Not to mention mortified when he had to walk back through the house. He took another few deep breaths until he didn’t feel like he might keel over if he moved.
Then he realized he’d never even tried to get River off, and River was visibly hard. He licked his lips. “Let me—”
River caught Jem’s hand before he could do anything. “Later,” he said.
What? “But—”
Jem was the one who was being paid, here. That didn’t seem fair.
“That was just for you, sunshine.” River dropped a quick kiss on his lips. “Because I wanted to and I couldn’t resist.”
For some reason that made the tips of Jem’s ears burn, but what could he say? “Okay.”
“Good. Now.” River took a step back and assessed them both. Evidently he decided they were fit enough to be seen in public, or at least by other people at this party. “What are you thinking? Do you want to stick around, or are you going to turn into a pumpkin at any moment?”
“Uh….” Honestly, Jem would love to go home and sleep off whatever was happening in his brain. But River wasn’t paying him to go home and sleep.
“Pumpkin,” River said before Jem could answer. “Yeah, me too. Come on.”
Without further preamble, he unlocked the bathroom door, stepped out, and almost ran into Kiana as he did so. “Oops,” River said cheerfully. “Sorry. Hope you weren’t waiting long.”
And then, like it was nothing, he dragged Jem—still come-dumb—out of the party to find their ride.