Chapter 2 #3
“Just to be clear, I’m not sleeping with my roommate.
Not that it matters if I was, I guess. It’s not like I owe you an explanation or anything.
I want to go on the record to state that we’re simply renter and rentee.
Nothing funny going on there.” He paused for a fraction of a second.
“Well, a little more than just roommates. I suppose we’re sort of friends.
More a matter of proximity versus someone I chose, you know?
He’s definitely not a good friend, just someone I hang out with every so often when it’s convenient for us.
When he found out I’d never been to a leather bar, he coerced me into coming tonight saying that every self-respecting gay man living in this city needs to go to the Eagle at least once.
Then what does he do? He meets up with an old fuckbuddy and immediately ditches me after he made me come. ” Kenji paused. “Come out. Not come.”
Qylar lifted a brow, fighting a chuckle.
“Can you please say something and shut me up? I sound like a complete idiot.”
Qylar grinned. You’re fucking adorable, Kenji.
“I appreciate that, but me sitting here rambling is not adorable, trust me,” Kenji said.
Qylar frowned. Had he said that thought out loud?
“Take a deep breath, hmm?” Qylar suggested, trailing a fingertip gently along the side of Kenji’s arm. “You’re safe here, I promise.”
Kenji inhaled and slowly let it out. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. I thought I could pull off the whole fuckboy thing, but that’s not me.”
Qylar wasn’t letting go that easy. “Just be yourself. I don’t need you to be a fuckboy.”
“I don’t normally go home with strangers, especially ones who look like you, Skylar.”
“Qylar,” he corrected.
Kenji’s head whipped to him, and his eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I thought you said your name was Skylar.”
“Drop the S—and it sounds pretty much the same.”
Kenji scrubbed his face with both hands. “Fuck! I couldn’t even get that right. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Why? It was loud in there,” Qylar said. “And you weren’t too far off.”
Kenji shook his head and reached for the door handle. “It’s more proof that I don’t belong here. I should go before I embarrass myself even more.”
The door opened a crack before Qylar leaned over, snagged it, and closed it with a yank.
When he turned, his face was inches from Kenji’s.
He struggled not to plant a kiss on the man then and there, but he fought the desire for Kenji’s sake.
The guy was already frazzled. A kiss might calm him—or make things ten times worse.
“You’re absolutely free to go, if that’s what you really want to do—but I hope you stay. You haven’t embarrassed yourself. Far from it.”
Kenji stared at him, a hint of relieved adoration in his eyes. That hint caused Qylar’s shaft to thicken. He wanted Kenji to look up at him just like that when that pretty mouth was full of his cock later. If Qylar could convince him not to bolt.
“I’ve made a fool of myself and it’s only been a couple of minutes,” Kenji said. “It won’t get much better from here.”
“You haven’t made a fool of yourself.” Qylar reached out and brushed Kenji’s hair off his face.
“You’re nervous. Which is understandable, given that you’re in a stranger’s truck, about to go home with him.
You’re feeling vulnerable. I’m considerably bigger than you, and I’m sure that might be intimidating in more ways than one. I could hurt you.”
Kenji’s breath caught.
“Luckily for you, I have no desire to cause you pain,” Qylar said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Though I do plan to make you scream.” He gave a faint smile. “When you come apart in my arms later tonight. Unlike your roommate, I will make you come. Over and over again if we’re lucky.”
Kenji stared at him, his eyes darkening with lust. His tongue poked out, and he wet his lips.
After seeing that, Qylar couldn’t hold back that kiss another second.
He swooped in and captured Kenji’s mouth, savoring the taste of the beer lingering on his tongue.
That and the intrinsic taste that was Kenji.
A hint of cinnamon. Some vanilla. A little bit of mint… and the sexy, adorable man under it.
He drew in Kenji’s scent, most of the same aromas filling his nose along with sandalwood and pine. Qylar pulled back and searched Kenji’s face.
“If you still want to go, I won’t stop you. No matter how much I’d want to.”
Kenji stared up at him, and Qylar saw the gears moving in his head. “You’re so smooth… and I’m decidedly not.”
“Opposites attract.”
Kenji chuckled. “We can’t get much more opposite.”
“Are we, though? We both ended up in the same bar in the same city on the same night with what I assume is the same desire.”
Heat flared in Kenji’s eyes. “And what desire is that?”
“To see one another naked. To do wicked, wicked things to one another until we lie spent and breathless in bed together.”
“I bet you get laid a lot, don’t you?” Kenji gasped dramatically. “Is that why you picked me? You’ve already fucked all the other men in San Francisco, and you finally got around to me?”
Qylar barked with laughter. A tiny part of him was mildly frustrated that his attempts at seduction were being undermined one after the other, but a larger part of him appreciated the challenge. Getting Kenji to the edge was going to take work.
Maybe that’s what had drawn him. Had he instinctively sensed a battle to make it into bed? An easy lay might have its moments, but one you had to work at could be more fun. As long as he ended up the victor, of course.
“I won’t say that I don’t have a healthy body count, but no, I have not fucked all the men in San Francisco, I assure you. Far from it.” He hedged. “Okay, maybe not far from it, but… a good distance away.”
Kenji snorted. “I don’t have a ton of experience. Surprising, I know.” He met Qylar’s gaze. “I hope I won’t bore you.”
“I seriously doubt that could happen.”
Qylar eyed him, a question suddenly hitting.
Kenji looked young, but he’d gotten a vibe that made him think the guy was older than he looked.
A lack of experience might indicate he was dead wrong and he sure as hell hoped he wasn’t.
“You are over twenty-one, right? I haven’t picked up some undergrad with a fake ID, have I? ”
“I’m thirty-two.”
Qylar sighed with relief. “Sorry. I sensed you were but I had to ask.”
“Yeah, yeah… I get it. My baby face. I’ve been barred from entry because bouncers were sure my ID is fake. Luckily for me, I don’t go partying often. Though, I am in a bar nearly every day, so go figure.”
“Every day?”
“I’m a bartender.” A worried look crossed Kenji’s face. “I hope that’s not going to get me kicked out of the truck… now that I’ve decided to stay.”
A slow smile spread across Qylar’s face. He approved of Kenji’s decision. “Not kicking you out for that.”
“Good. There are some who judge what I do. Especially in this city.”
“As long as you’re happy, why should I?”
Kenji’s eyebrows went up, signaling he might not necessarily be happy. The surprising part was that Qylar wanted to know why. He didn’t pry into backstories with the guys he picked up. A basic rundown was enough for him. It wasn’t like they were sticking around long, so why bother with a deep dive?
Why the fuck did he want to know what Kenji’s look had meant—and even more—why did he feel the sudden urge to fix whatever the problem was? That was a Cryss kind of thing to do, not him. He didn’t want those kinds of complications in his life.
Sure, there was a part of him that wanted what Cryss had, but he wasn’t getting that with a human, no matter how adorable he might be. He clearly needed to remind himself of that.
Maybe Kenji was right. Maybe they weren’t a good idea after all.
No way am I letting him out of this truck—unless it’s when he’s headed into my bed.
That thought caused him to frown.
Clearing his throat, he glanced at the street outside the truck’s windshield, his calm facade cracked a bit. “Are you feeling more comfortable now?”
“Mostly.”
Qylar eyed him. He wasn’t fidgeting as much, so he’d thought they might be good to go. “Mostly?”
“Do you wear leather pants often?”
Qylar nodded, sensing where this was going. He fought a smile. “On occasion.”
“I don’t,” Kenji said. “These are the most uncomfortable things I’ve ever worn in my life.” He writhed in the seat, his pants squeaking with the movement. “I can’t stop sweating in here. How do you not chafe?”
Qylar chuckled. He reached over and caressed Kenji’s thigh. Cheap bonded leather. Of course they were uncomfortable and hot. “It’s all about the quality. A better pair would be more comfortable.”
“It’s not like I had a choice. I’m wearing borrowed gear,” Kenji said.
“I’ll have you out of them as soon as we get home.”
Kenji’s gaze swept to his, heat flashing again.
Home. Not his place—but home.
Qylar brushed the comment aside, sure it was just a slip of the tongue and nothing more.
He focused on the heat in Kenji’s eyes instead of his own misfiring mouth.
Qylar sensed there was a deep well of need burning inside Kenji. Every time he caught a glimpse of desire, humor or anxiety quickly came out to mask it. Did it make him uncomfortable to want—or be wanted?
He’d have to test his theory.
Later.
Once he had Kenji under him.