10. Aspen #2
“I think I’ve got an idea for your exit strategy,” Parker offered. “If we find ourselves in a sticky predicament, I’ll just spill hot food or soup all over myself, at which point the rest of you will have the excuse of needing to rush me to a healer.”
“And if you fail your saving throw?”
“Dorian is not going to let my character die from hot soup or coffee burns.”
Snorting, I cocked an eyebrow at him. “How long have you known Dorian? Do you really want to hope those wishy-washy dice of yours can carry you through however many rounds of saving throws he makes you roll for injuring yourself?”
First, Parker puffed up, he even waved his fork in my direction until Phoenix snagged the chunk of rib clinging to the end of it and ate it. Parker stared from me to the end of his fork like he was torn between which atrocity to deal with first. Finally, he just deflated.
“Okay, fair point on the dice. They haven’t been rolling anything I’ve needed lately. I’ve looked at new ones at the gaming store but haven’t been able to decide on a pair yet.”
“You might want to stop fiddle-farting around and pick some up before the game starts.”
“Yeah, I need to get more words too. It’s just easier to write them in my notebook first so I can make all the changes and corrections I want before reading them into the computer.
For some reason, when I try to write directly into a Word document, I feel like I spend half my time going backward, editing what I just typed and wind up tuning out the characters. ”
“Because typing and writing require two different parts of the brain,” I reminded him.
“I can stick around and give you a hand if you want?” Phoenix offered. “It’ll save me from falling victim to another bout of obscenity.”
“Come on, this is the best kind of obscenity,” Parker declared, gesturing to the mostly empty containers.
Three, maybe four pieces of pork remained, along with one crab Rangoon and a tiny scoop of Mongolian beef.
I knew the moment their eyes locked on the rib carton not to get involved in the melee that was about to ensue.
Parker’s fork darted towards the carton, but Phoenix employed a different strategy and yanked it out from under him, cuddling it to his chest, while I waited for their attention to be diverted and grabbed the last crab Rangoon.
“Drats!” Parker declared, while Phoenix cried, “Victory!” and shoved two pieces in his mouth.
Parker’s head swiveled, eyeing what remained, before he turned to face me. “What the hell, man! Double drats!”
“Getting slow in your old age,” I said, grinning as I dunked the crab Rangoon in sweet and sour sauce.
“Now wait just a minute!” He huffed, puffing up again. “You are two months older than I am! How are you going to sit over there and crack old jokes at me?”
“Easily, and with a tasty treat in my mouth,” I declared.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye; Parker didn’t. He was too busy sputtering like a ruffled hen. “You, sir, are a cad.”
“And a well-fed one at that,” I replied before biting into it.
He turned his attention back to the cartons, frowned, then slowly lifted them one by one, a puzzled expression on his face. “What happened to the Mongolian…”
His eyes landed on Phoenix, who’d finished with the ribs and sat scooping beef, peppers, and onions into his mouth. He couldn’t say anything, his mouth was too full. The nonchalant shrug and smug grin were downright adorable, and Parker just slid down in his seat, accepting defeat.
“He’s right,” Phoenix said after he finished chewing. “You do seem to be a little slower than usual today, and your exit plan has one glaring flaw, unless you intend to carry hot soup and coffee around at all times so you have some to spill on yourself.”
“I…” Parker muttered, holding one finger up before pressing his hand to his face and sliding lower in the chair.
“I think I have an exit strategy we can use,” Phoenix said. “Thinking about one reminded me of this story my uncle told me and my cousins when we were on a camping trip.”
“Really?” I said. “Let’s hear it.”
“He said that these guys were in the bar one night, three of them, one seriously decked out to draw attention. Shiny boots, a kilt, and a chest-hugging top to go with it, wandering around and drawing as many stares as the dancers. The other two came in with him but were pretty much dressed like everyone else and were easy to lose track of. Unc said they were all in the club for a couple hours when this guy came to the bar asking if anyone had turned in a wallet. No one had, so my uncle told him to check the men’s room, since, you know, shit does fall out of pockets if your jeans are too loose.
It happens. You should see the things that wind up in our lost-and-found box.
Most go unclaimed and get heaved in the dumpster at the end of the month.
Anyway, it happened a second time. Now that’s suspicious, but before anyone can start looking at security tapes or anything of that nature, the guy in the kilt and his companions got in an argument, one shoved the other, there was a bunch of yelling and cussing, and they all got their asses tossed out on the street. ”
“I see where this is going,” I said. “Proceed.”
“Turns out they’d lifted seven wallets over the course of the night,” Phoenix explained.
“Two guys came back to the club after making it all the way home without realizing theirs were missing from their pockets. The fight was to get them tossed before they could get caught, and it worked brilliantly, because our bouncers literally threw them out the door with the wallets.”
“Dayum. Okay,” Parker said. “I might have to spend more time at the strip club people-watching and gathering material if those are the kinds of shenanigans that go on there.”
“As far as I know, it never happened again, but feel free to pick my uncle’s brain any time you’d like, he loves telling stories about the days when he got to dropkick people across the parking lot.”
“I’ll bet, who knows what ideas they’ll spark.”
“Hopefully ones that don’t involve food. I’m stuffed thanks to you,” Phoenix grumbled and let out a series of small burps.
When Parker shot him a rueful glare, Phoenix just sat there smirking.
“Seriously though, it is a great idea,” I said after pondering it for a bit while we cleaned up cartons, plates, and crumpled paper towels. “But we need some sort of a signal, so we know when one of us is about to kickstart an argument.”
“Easy,” Parker declared. “We’ll just make a lewd food comment.”
Phoenix stuck his tongue out at him, prompting Parker to round the table and cup his chin, squeezing lightly.
“Let me see that again,” Parker said, so Phoenix stuck it out, slowly, never losing eye contact with him.
“Nice,” Parker murmured. “Very nice. But do you know how to use it?”
“Depends on how you want it used?” Phoenix replied with that same impish-ass smirk he’d given Parker earlier. Those two, I swear, were always giving each other, and me, shit while slouching around looking sinfully fuckable.
Parker pulled his T-shirt off over his head, no bindings underneath, while my chest ached, a reminder that I hadn’t had time to pump yet this afternoon.
And now I wouldn’t have to. My shirt joined Parker’s on the back of a chair, my bindings following it.
I pulled a chair around the table and positioned it opposite to where Parker sat with Phoenix lapping at his nipples.
Shit, I checked the time, relieved that we had twenty minutes before the shop was supposed to open again.
“No time for games, pup,” I hissed, stroking up his back. “You’ve got twenty minutes and two Daddies to satisfy.”
I felt him shudder, then Parker moaned as Phoenix latched on fully while I slid my hand beneath his hair and gently caressed the back of his neck.
He swiveled a few minutes later and kissed me before leaning to take my nipple into his mouth.
He loved to have his hair stroked, but for some reason, doing it while he was sucking me always made his enthusiasm grow.
Not only did the pitch of his moans increase, but the intensity did too, to the point where I wished I could take the rest of the afternoon off and take them home.
I scraped my nails over the back of his neck, and he groaned and sucked hard enough that I sagged in my chair, fingers snaring his hair to hold him to me. When he started to pull back, I was reluctant to let go, forced to remind myself of the warning I’d given him before I finally turned him loose.
Phoenix turned back to Parker, but the curve of his back as he leaned was too tempting for me to resist, so I pushed his T-shirt up so I could lick his spine.
“Fuck!” Parker groaned when I chuckled against Phoenix’s skin and made him shiver and suck harder. Goosebumps cropped up too, and he arched away from me, moaning.
When he turned back toward me, his expression was soft and tranquil, even if his cheeks were flushed.
We didn’t have much time left, so he started sucking the moment he latched on, long, hard pulls, easing the last of the ache in my chest, even if there was one growing in my boxers now.
By the time we had any alone time together, we’d be too tired for what I had in mind for him, but I committed it to memory as he finished suckling enough that the rest of the afternoon wouldn’t be completely miserable.
“Thank you, pup,” I murmured when he was finished and had licked the last traces of milk from my chest. “I owe you a special treat on our next day off.”
“We both do,” Parker said, waiting for me to finish kissing Phoenix so he could kiss him too.
We managed to make ourselves presentable enough to open the shop three minutes later than planned, but with only two people waiting.
I’d consider that a victory. Watching Parker wave as he headed up the block, all I could think about was how big a part of my life he’d always been and how much I looked forward to him and Phoenix being my future.