15. Ryan #3
“We’re good,” I tell my roommate. “We’re working on a project, but enjoy your dinner.”
“Okay,” Deacon says. “Good to meet you.” His smile is less impressive this time, not crinkling his eyes or popping the dimples. I nod Malcolm toward my room, stopping short of physically dragging him there.
“Good looking guy,” Mal says once we’re behind my closed door.
“Deacon?” I ask .
He nods, looking suspiciously at me.
“He’s not—I’m not—do I really have to explain the concept of roommates to you?”
“No. I’ve had a gay roommate before, too.”
“You—? Never mind.” I don’t press because he’ll probably say something I either won’t like or will confuse me about him even more. He’s had me in a tailspin since the second I sat beside him in the huddle this morning.
How to describe what he wore to work without sounding problematic…
The black shirt he had on underneath his camel colored suit had a slight sheen to it.
His pants were slimmer cut, tapered at the ankle and, like I noticed under the table, no socks with his brown Amberjack loafers.
It wasn’t flamboyant . Not exactly. Not in the showier way Miguel is.
But I got the feeling Mal had never worn those items of clothing in that precise combination before because it made him look…
less than straight. And Malcolm, in my experience has never looked anything less than perfectly ramrod straight down to his golf shirts and khaki shorts.
Tonight, the mint shirt—very flattering on him with his body type and skin tone—isn’t paired with cargo shorts. He’s wearing faded denim jeans that fit him like a goddamn dream. In addition to carrying Stephanie, he’s got a full on garment bag with him, slung over his shoulder.
“Wardrobe change?” I ask, following my rambling train of thoughts.
“It’s a suit,” he says.
“Like—a work suit?”
He nods. “Can I hang it up?”
“Uh…sure.” I gesture toward my closet. He sets Stephanie on the floor, unfolds the garment bag, makes a space for it on the rod, and hangs it up.
“Did you bring a toothbrush too? ”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “Don’t act like we didn’t talk about this.”
I’ll take that as a yes about the toothbrush.
“You’re welcome to change your mind,” he says. “I won’t unpack yet.”
I can’t think about him spending the night or how fast all this is moving. We’ve got actual shit we need to accomplish tonight. “Can we just do the work? Please?”
“You’re ready?”
“To talk about early retirement for fifteen minutes? Yes.” That was the topic that won the poll.
“Where do you wanna do it?”
“My desk, I think.”
“Want me to film?”
“It’s better than me doing it with you staring at me from the side the whole time. Yeah, you can film it.”
He arches a brow. Admittedly, I sound prickly.
But then he smiles like it’s all par for the course and goes over to sit in the beanbag.
It’s a good place to film from. We’ll get the sunset light and a view of my room that I’ve haven’t used before.
I close the bathroom door and make sure nothing “slob”-like winds up in the shot.
Malcolm is making himself comfortable again because I really do think he loves that chair, and says, “I wanna do mine right here.”
He’ll be talking about turning side-hustles into full-time money makers.
I have a seat at my desk, run a hand through my hair, and ask how I look.
“Really fucking good,” he says, his voice low with a hint of a rumble.
I put my hands on my cheeks to make sure they’re not getting too hot. “Behave. ”
“I’m just sitting here.”
Yeah, sitting there looking like he’d whip out his cock and start jerking it for me if I asked him to. Has he always been this slutty?
Yes, I remind myself. He has been. It’s just never been directed at me, and that’s why it looks different.
I’m normally not a fan of a strong come on, but maybe he’s the exception.
If his advances were any weaker than full throttle, I don’t think I would have come within a foot of him after that one time I backed him up against the wall.
I lost my cool that time. That won’t happen again. He’s a walking red flag.
“Okay,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”
He positions the phone and starts recording.
I start talking. I talk and I talk, and then I think of something else I want to say, and I talk some more.
It’s honestly helpful having him here. It feels less like I’m performing, more like I’m sharing something with him I’m passionate about—the way I used to talk about how much I wanted to live in a mansion with two kitchens.
He smiles from time to time and nods like he’s in agreement with where I’m coming from.
Eventually he gives me a signal like wrap it up, and I do, adding in a request for people to hop on the Discord and leave their thoughts and questions.
He gives me a thumbs up. I stop talking, and he lowers the phone. “Come here.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Your turn.”
“Ryan…” He runs his hand over his crotch, leaving a nice outline of his erection.
“Tough for you, bro. Toss me the phone.”
“I can’t talk right now. I need to…” he swivels his hips and lifts them slightly. “Come on. Help me clear my head.”
I’m staying strong on this. My cock is another story, hardening fast at that slutty hip thrust. “Forget it. We’ve gotta do this and make videos for TikTok. You need to tell your inner slut to take a seat for an hour.”
“ Mmph .” His hips move again. “Fuck. Call me a slut again.”
Fuck me, he’s hot like this. Scalding.
“Mal, I need you…”
“Yeah?”
“To talk about scaling up a side hustle.”
“Fine,” he groans. “Shit. Okay, go.”
I get the video going, and he starts talking, his voice all growly and sexy, though his expression manages to stay tame.
I react less to his content than he did to mine, but only because I’ve trained myself not to react to him for so long, it’s a habit.
He tends to talk with his hands when he’s not holding Stephanie.
She’s currently curled up on the corner of the bed with Bud spooning her.
She’s a needy little thing—Stephanie. She likes a big warm body to rest against, and Bud couldn’t care less.
When Mal wraps up, I take a few pictures of the dog and cat together before I have to start thinking about what to record for TikTok.
“Hey,” Mal says. “Since your shirt’s gotta come off anyway, why don’t you let me help you with that.”
I bite my cheek, trying hard not to smile. “Because I want to finish this.”
“Why? So you can give me your undivided attention?”
“Sure, Mal. Whatever you want to tell yourself.”
“It’s a coffee break. We just did so much work. We’re so fucking productive. Come here, and I’ll make sure you’ve got that just been fucked look all your followers go crazy for.”
I widen my eyes at how goddamn brazen he is. “You sure you’re all right? Taking your meds as prescribed? You don’t need to go in for an adjustment?”
“I thought I made it pretty obvious back in the day, but sex is kind of a thing I like to do. A lot. ”
“Explain to me again what’s not working out with Kaylin then?”
He sighs and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I would tell you. If you’d stop being such a sarcastic dick.”
“I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“The other day in this chair you were pretty cool with me. There was like—almost half an hour before you said something shitty.”
“We didn’t have stuff we were supposed to be doing.”
“I’m trying to be patient with you,” he says. “But you’re not making it easy.”
“ Me ?” He’s the one with his legs spread.
“Yeah. You.”
“We’ve already hooked up twice,” I argue.
“I’m a sex on the first date guy.”
“How would you know? You’ve dated one person,” I say, testing him.
“That’s how I know,” he says.
I frown, annoyed that he didn’t take the bait.
“I don’t need you to get it, Ry. I just need you to come here.”