Chapter 8 Jace
JACE
He sucks in a quick breath, and I can practically see his anger levels rising as he glares at me. “You’re seriously going to play that game right now?”
“What game?” I blink at him, feigning confusion.
“The game where you trick me into starting something.”
I huff out a laugh. “I don’t need to trick you into starting anything. You seem to be pretty damn good at that without any help from me.”
“Trust me when I say that tonight isn’t the night.” He pulls himself up to his full height and squares his shoulders.
“Say please.”
“What?”
“You want the card, then say please.”
His glare deepens, and his cheeks and neck flush soft pink.
“Remember all those lessons you should have gotten in kindergarten about manners and how to talk nicely to people when you want something from them?” I ask when he just keeps glaring at me. “That was good life advice.”
“Give me the card.” He takes a step closer so we’re only a few feet apart now.
“Not until you say the magic word.” I cross my arms.
“Do not fuck with me tonight,” he practically growls at me.
“Why not? You gonna hit me?” I arch one eyebrow at him. “Or maybe you want to tackle me so you can feel me under you again.”
“Shut. Up.”
“Is that what you want, Shaney? You want to get off again?”
“Maybe you’re the one who wants me to hit you again,” he says in that growly voice that’s somehow both amusing and hot as hell. “And you’re the one who wants to get off again, hmmm?”
I huff out a laugh. “I’ve never made a secret that I’m down for a little dude-on-dude action with you.”
“Why?”
“Why am I down for a little dude-on-dude action?” I ask, genuinely confused by the question.
“Why are you down for it with me?”
“Because you’re hot.”
His eyes widen, like he didn’t expect me to admit that I find him attractive.
“And because it’s fun.”
His surprised look melts back into a glare. “So this is just a flipping the straight guy thing? You like the challenge of making me question everything I’ve ever thought about myself?”
“Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t get my jollies from causing sexual identity crises in people.”
He snort-laughs. “Yeah, right.”
“I don’t want you because you’re straight.” I take a half step toward him. “And I don’t get any satisfaction from flipping straight guys. You know why?”
He doesn’t answer, but I can see a flare of something that almost looks like hope in his eyes.
“Because that’s not a thing,” I say. “You don’t have to be queer to enjoy playing with dicks, and whatever label you choose for yourself is up to you, but no one can change your sexuality.
You are what you are, and if you’re learning stuff about yourself because of what we did, then that means it was always there and I’m just bringing it to the surface. ”
“I don’t get you,” he says, more of his anger melting away.
“You’re an asshole who’s made a sport out of driving me crazy and pissing me off to the point of violence, but then you turn around and say weirdly supportive shit like that.
And you’re not using my confusion against me.
Like, you wouldn’t hesitate to tell everyone who’d listen if you saw me fall into the fountain in the main quad because I was too busy looking at my phone to pay attention to where I was walking or something equally embarrassing, but you’re going to keep what happened between us a secret? ”
“I am an enigma wrapped up in a conundrum,” I say seriously.
He rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “And there’s that mouth again.”
“And you have no idea what this mouth can actually do.”
He pins me with a flat look.
“But you’re right,” I continue. “I do enjoy driving you crazy and pissing you off to the point of violence. You know why?”
“Because it’s fun?” he asks warily.
“Yup. And because you like it as much as I do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.” I close the distance between us so we’re toe-to-toe. “And it’s fine if you can’t, or don’t want to, admit it.” I lower my voice. “I know the truth, and deep down, so do you.”
“So fucking arrogant,” he grumbles.
“Is it arrogance when it’s true?”
“There you go trying to get me to swing at you again.”
“Or maybe I’m just letting you know that it’s okay to use me to get whatever’s got your panties in a bunch out of your system.”
“And what makes you think I want to use you for that?”
I flick my gaze to the noticeable bulge in his shorts. He’s not completely hard, but he’s definitely got something going on under there.
“Fuck off,” he snaps.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about. Boners happen, and they seem to happen a lot around me.”
“Are you going to give me the card?”
“Are you going to ask nicely?”
He balls his fists at his sides and squeezes his hands so tight his arms shake. “Give me the card.”
“No.”
“And what are you going to do if I take it from you?” He arches one eyebrow in challenge.
I drag my teeth over my lower lip. “Like I said earlier, you’re welcome to try.”
I can see the conflict in his eyes as he looks between my face and my crotch a few times, like he’s trying to decide if he should go after the card or punch me.
His gaze lingers on my crotch, and his eyes widen as my dick thickens until I’m half hard and tenting the front of my sweats. I slowly rub one hand over my cock, and he quickly returns his gaze to mine.
He wants to start something; I can see it plain as day on his face, but I can also see that he isn’t ready to admit that to anyone, not even himself.
“Go ahead.” I tug on the waistband of my sweats in a little taunt. “You know you want to.”
Something in his expression changes, and he shoves his hand down the front of my pants.
His fingers brush against the hard ridge of my dick, and the flare of pleasure that rockets through me makes my balls tighten and my cock pulse.
He rips his hand away like he’s been burned, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open in surprise.
I can’t help chuckling at his reaction. “Are you really that surprised that my dick is in my pants?”
He levels a glare at me and slides his hand under my waistband again.
This time he slips his fingers under my boxer briefs too, and the drag of his warm skin against mine sends a pulse of heat through me as he searches out the card.
I stand there, passive and silent, as he fishes around for a second. Then he shoots me a triumphant smirk as his fingers close around the card.
I grab his wrist as he starts to pull it free, trapping his hand so it’s still buried down the front of my pants.
He lifts his eyes to mine, and the confusion and desire in them are unmistakable.
He wants something; he just doesn’t know what.
The side of my mouth tips up in a smirk.
I can work with that.
Locking eyes with him, I slowly push his hand down until his fingertips brush my cock.
He freezes, and I give him a second to get used to the fact that he’s touching my bare dick.
Usually I don’t give a fuck if the guy I’m hooking up with is a dude virgin or a seasoned manwhore, but there’s something incredibly satisfying about knowing that I’m the first guy that Shane’s ever touched like this.
That I’m the first he’s ever wanted to touch like this.
I let go of his wrist, and he quickly pulls his hand free, the card still clutched between his fingers.
“Looks like you’ve got it,” I say when he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly. “What are you going to do now, Shaney?”
His eyes narrow at the nickname, but he doesn’t tell me to fuck off or make a beeline for the door.
“Are you gonna leave?” I ask, adding a teasing tone to my voice.
He flicks his gaze to the door but doesn’t move.
“Or are you going to finish what you started?”
“I didn’t start anything,” he says quickly. “That was all you.”
Plucking the card from his hand, I slip it into my back pocket. “Maybe.”
“Hey,” he exclaims, making a grab for my pocket.
I easily catch his wrist and hold him in place.
“Jesus fuck, how are you so strong?” he asks incredulously.
“Climbing.”
“Climbing? Like rock climbing?”
I nod, still holding his wrist in place.
“And I bet that’s where you get your reflexes too?”
“Nope, that would be from learning to dodge knives.”
He rolls his eyes. “You can’t be serious for more than ten seconds, can you?”
“What’s unserious about my answer? You asked if I got my reflexes from climbing, and I said they’re from learning to dodge knives.”
“Because any idiot would know you’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“You’re saying it’s true?”
“My brother and I have some unique hobbies, and using each other for target practice is one of them. It was either learn how to dodge or learn how to patch up a stab wound. We’ve gotten really good at both over the years.”
“Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”
I roll my shoulder in a shrug. “Believe what you want.”
He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but closes it with a confused look. “You’re serious?”
I just smile.
I’m telling the truth, but it’s more fun to confuse him than it is to convince him.
“Are you going to let go of my arm?” he asks.
“Are you going to try and grab my ass again?”
“I was going for the card,” he grumbles.
“Then go ahead.” I let go of him.
He pauses, like he wasn’t expecting me to release him, then slides his hand into my back pocket and pulls out the card.
But instead of marching over to the door to unlock it, he hesitates, uncertainty clouding his features as he flicks his gaze to the door, then looks back at me.
Yup, he wants this. He just doesn’t want to admit that he does.
Moving quickly, I slide one foot behind his and grab his shoulders so I can sweep his leg out from under him.
He lets out a cry of surprise and tumbles backward, but instead of letting him crash to the floor, I use my grip on him to control his fall and lay him out on the thick mat underneath us, his hips between my knees as I pin his arms to the floor.
He immediately starts struggling, but I’m able to keep my hold on him as he twists and writhes under me.