Chapter Thirteen #2
Lachlan fumbled for the radio, goosebumps spreading down his arms. Tim plucked it from his clumsy fingers and said calmly. “Yep. On my way.”
Then he was gone, and Lachlan was ringing the cops and wondering how he was supposed to carry on like nothing had happened. It wasn’t out of his system even though it had to be. Even though it felt like it—whatever “it” was—had only burrowed deeper into his flesh and bones…
And his heart.
“A Mirrabooka mum says she and her four children have been unfairly evicted. Georgia Walker and her family are living in a tent after being tossed out for property damage she says was caused by a storm.”
Lachlan left the broccoli he was chopping and peered around the corner at the TV in the living room. Knife in hand, he watched the news story interviewing the woman, her small, wide-eyed children beside her on a patch of dusty land that looked like it was behind a shopping center.
It was only when the pot of water boiled over that he jumped up from where he’d sat to get on his phone, searching council bylaws.
He slid the pot off the burner, shaking sizzling drops of water from his hand and wiping it on his old T-shirt he wore over shorts he’d pulled on after his shower.
He sidestepped a splash of water on the floor with his bare feet.
For the next hour, he researched bylaws and jotted down notes on the scrap paper Bel kept by the fridge for a shopping list. In the living room, MasterChef Australia came on TV, and his stomach growled. What was he doing? He wasn’t this woman’s lawyer. He wasn’t anyone’s lawyer. He was a lifeguard.
He couldn’t be bothered to finish making the stir fry now and shoved the broccoli into the fridge. As he ate Vegemite on toast for dinner, he kept thinking about Georgia Walker and her wide-eyed children.
He was on the Legal Practice Board site when his phone pinged with a text. His heart slammed his ribcage as he read the single word:
Hey
Leaping to his feet, Lachlan spun in a circle as he fumbled his phone and almost dropped it to the wooden floor. Gripping the phone so hard the case creaked ominously, he stared at that one word from Tim.
There was no punctuation. Just the word in a casual tone. He swiped open the screen and noted there were no bouncing ellipses. Tim didn’t seem to be writing anything else. He’d made his declaration—“Hey”—and was apparently now waiting for a response.
Lachlan’s thumbs hovered over the screen. What did it mean? He couldn’t be too eager. But playing it cool didn’t seem to be in his skill set lately.
Finally, he responded in kind:
Hey
One word, no punctuation.
After another minute of waiting, Lachlan couldn’t stand it and typed:
Are you watching MasterChef?
He’d heard Tim talking about it last week with Mark, who was a real foodie. A few moments later, Tim was typing. Lachlan paced while he waited for the next message:
Can’t believe Huyen got eliminated last week. Why did she try risotto??
He quickly typed back:
I know! There wasn’t enough time!
MasterChef Australia was a safe topic, right? Nothing wrong with that. Just two blokes on a Sunday night texting about a cooking show. As you do.
Two blokes who’d shared the most incredible sex of Lachlan’s life.
Before he could stop himself, he asked:
Want to come over and watch the rest?
Seconds dragged out endlessly with no bouncing ellipses. Shit, he’d stuffed up. Tim was going to disappear like nothing had ever happened. Except everything had happened, and Lachlan was desperate to see him again. They’d just watch TV and have a beer. Nothing else.
Then, one word appeared again. No punctuation.
Yes
Heart thudding, Lachlan typed in the address and whirled around, grabbing his plate with toast crumbs and tipping them into the sink. It was fine. They were just going to watch TV! They’d gotten it all out of their systems the night before.
During the most incredible sex of his life.
His phone pinged, and he eagerly read the words on the screen. Except they were from Bel:
Ready to chat with Auntie Jo?
“No!” he said out loud. Shit, he’d totally forgotten about the video chat they’d scheduled. His thumbs flew over the screen as he typed:
Sorry! Something came up at work. Go ahead and I’ll join in next time.
The dots bounced on the screen before another text appeared.
It’s been pitch black for at least a couple of hours. That excuse worked better at the law firm. What’s up?
God, he was a knobhead. Bel probably wouldn’t let it go, and any second now she’d try to video call to see what was going on. He quickly typed:
Fine, I’ve got a date.
He’d written it because he knew she and Auntie Jo would be happy to hear it and let him off the hook. And…it was kind of the truth? He wanted it to be true. He wanted this. Wanted Tim.
Bel’s response said: Why didn’t you just say that? Have fun! Followed by a few emojis including an eggplant because his big sister loved embarrassing him.
It was less than ten minutes before he heard the engine. Heart thumping, he opened the side gate and watched Tim park his ute on the verge in the darkness.
“Hey,” Lachlan said too loudly as Tim approached in jeans and a sweatshirt, his thongs slapping on the pavement. He carried a six-pack of beer, fingers hooked under the strong plastic wrap holding the bottles together.
Don’t think about his fingers.
“They’re just finishing the mystery box,” he added.
Tim nodded and followed, closing the gate behind him and kicking off his thongs inside the kitchen, the white string door fluttering.
Lachlan grabbed two stubby holders and put the other bottles in the fridge next to his cooked broccoli.
Good thing he’d only had toast—he’d be ready to spew with nerves if his stomach was full.
They each sat at one end of the long leather sofa, an arm’s length between them. The time ended on the “superfoods” mystery box, and the contestants took turns bringing their dishes up to the judges.
As one waited anxiously while the judges tasted her avocado pork wraps with blueberry relish and an apple cider reduction, Lachlan concentrated on his breathing.
Slowly in and out. In and out. This was fine. This was perfectly normal. He and Tim could be mates. Why not?
“How long are we pretending I’m not going to fuck you again?”
Tim’s question was barely out before Lachlan dropped his beer on the table, spilling it everywhere. He righted the bottled and tugged Tim to his feet, the judges’ comments echoing after them as he led the way to his room.
Part of him wished it was farther down the hall since the sensation of holding Tim’s strong, warm hand made his head spin with joy. In his room by the neatly made bed, he pulled Tim to him, desperate to taste him. Eyes dark in the low light from the hallway, Tim’s gaze dropped to Lachlan’s mouth.
Lachlan tugged at the neck of Tim’s sweatshirt, eager to touch skin and wiry hair. He was about to beg Tim to kiss him when he found himself spun around and pushed onto the bed. Tim covered him, his hard cock against Lachlan’s arse with too much fabric between them.
Biting at Lachlan’s neck, Tim muttered, “Need to be inside you. Christ, I can’t stop myself.” He rocked his hips.
“Yes, yes, yes.” Lachlan mumbled like a prayer. The weight of Tim’s body was incredible. He’d let this man do anything to him.
He heard the drawer in his bedside table open, and Tim asked, “Where’s your stuff?”
Shit. “Didn’t you bring anything?”
“No. Guess I was still pretending. Then I saw you.” He ran his fingers under Lachlan’s T-shirt, spreading his hands wide and stroking.
Head light, Lachlan said, “It’s okay. Don’t need a condom.”
Tim went still, his fingers on Lachlan’s hips under the waistband of his shorts. “There’s other STIs. I know I don’t have any, though. Just did a full physical for the job.”
“I’m good too.”
Tim tugged down Lachlan’s shorts, and Lachlan was glad he never wore jocks around the house.
“Lube?”
“I think there’s some in the bathroom.”
“Not by the bed?”
“Too slippery for me. I mean when I’m…alone.” His face flamed hot, which was ridiculous given the things they’d already done. The things they were about to do.
Lips at Lachlan’s ear, Tim asked, “You like it just with spit and precum? Like it a little rough?” He thrust his hips, the denim coarse against Lachlan’s bare arse.
Pushing back for more, he nodded breathlessly.
Still in his T-shirt and having only his bottom half exposed gave Lachlan a shivery thrill, especially since Tim was still dressed. Like they could get caught any minute.
Fingertips teasing Lachlan’s crack, Tim asked, “Are you nice and clean for me?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Groaning, Tim’s weight lifted, but before Lachlan could protest, Tim was pulling his arse cheeks apart and licking his hole.
“Oh, Jesus,” Lachlan mumbled, spreading his legs as far as he could.
The sensation of Tim’s beard rubbing his tender skin as he licked and spit had Lachlan’s cock tingling. He hadn’t had his arse eaten out in a long time. He was pinned and exposed yet safe. With Tim, he didn’t have to hold anything back.
He gasped as Tim pushed his tongue inside, opening him patiently. His mouth against Lachlan’s hole was hot and wet, and Lachlan pleaded, “Need your cock.”
Tim’s fingers tightened on Lachlan’s arse. “Need lube.”
He reluctantly squirmed out from under Tim and darted into the bathroom, opening drawers in a near panic until he found the tube that hadn’t been used in ages. Even if lube expired, he’d take his chances.
Over the voices down the hall from the TV still playing, blood rushed in Lachlan’s ears. His whole body was electric, and he grabbed his dick, unable to stop from touching himself.
In the bedroom, Tim stood naked, peeling his jeans off his foot. He was broad and tanned, the pale skin of his arse practically glowing. Lachlan ran his hands over Tim’s back, kissing the freckles across his shoulder blades.
Then they were in a tangle on the bed, Tim taking charge and putting Lachlan on his knees. Lachlan blurted, “Can I see your face this time?” If he couldn’t have real kisses, he needed this.
Tim hesitated before rolling to his back and urging Lachlan to straddle him. He slicked Lachlan’s fingers, then commanded, “Show me.”
Reaching back, his pulse racing, Lachlan fucked himself on his fingers. His cock strained, and he couldn’t tear his eyes from Tim’s face. Their eyes locked, Tim’s fingers gripping Lachlan’s thighs. It was so intimate that Lachlan could barely breathe.
The voices from the TV faded, the rest of the world slipping off a cliff into the sea. Nothing remained but the two of them here and now. As he lined up Tim’s cock to his hole and sank down, he moaned, mouth open and skin hot.
Tim’s cock raw inside him burned in the best possible way. Lachlan was wonderfully feverish, sweat beading on his forehead as his thighs flexed. Tim held his hips and dug in his heels, fucking up into Lachlan’s body, lips parted.
Lachlan leaned forward, tracing Tim’s lips with his fingers, bracing on his hairy chest and riding Tim’s cock. He was so full—his arse, his ears, his heart. He’d never wanted anyone this much. He’d never fallen this hard. He’d never—
“Lachie?”
At the sound of his best friend calling his name, Lachlan was suddenly the one plummeting off the cliff.