Chapter 12
Chapter 12
It was almost 5:00 by the time they made it back to Lance’s place. Tanner stopped his truck in the driveway and turned off the engine.
“Come in?” Lance invited with a smile. “I can dig something out of the freezer. Pop open a few beers. We can make out on the couch,” he suggested, counting off each one, like he was making a list of things to do around the house. Tanner shook his head, biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.
“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” Tanner asked, knowing damned well he had no intentions of turning down any offers from Lance.
“That’s a bit more advanced than I was thinking of for tonight’s activities,” Lance said teasingly, because Tanner had set himself up for that one. “Seriously, though, I’d like you to come in. No pressure. I promise. I just need—please come in. At least let me fix you some dinner and maybe watch some TV. Hey, I’ve got some of that Belgian beer you like. Or you can just have a soft drink or water or lemonade . . .” His voice trailed off as he ran out of suggestions.
Tanner loved funny Lance. Loved how easygoing the guy was. But he also loved this version of him. It was younger, and far more self-conscious than the version he’d first met at his condo. He wasn’t quite as intimidating as the accountant with his own house and business. It was—refreshing, and reassuring, when he stumbled over his words and rambled nervously.
“The Belgian beer sounds nice, but you sold me with the making out part,” Tanner replied with a knowing smirk.
Lance laughed with delight, reaching over to capture Tanner’s jaw to kiss him enthusiastically.
“That is still unexpectedly amazing,” Lance said, as he lifted his mouth from Tanner’s.
Tanner wished there was a word to describe the expression on Lance’s face. Like a sunflower turned towards the sun. Lance smiled with his entire body. All of him, from his shoulders to the angle of his head, to the width of his smile, seemed to radiate his emotions, and it attracted Tanner in a way nothing else could. He’d give anything—do anything—to keep Lance smiling like that. And wasn’t that just the weirdest fucking thing? How you could go from barely caring about yourself, to being perfectly willing to burn down the world for someone else?
Yeah, Tanner was a dramatic motherfucker. He was all too aware.
Tanner was waiting for it. The awkwardness, the weirdness, he was waiting to wake up and realize he didn’t want this, that he’d somehow inhaled some weird shit, and that his new and sudden interest in cock was just a phase, but—it never came.
He’d grabbed two beers from the fridge, and leaned against the counter, while Lance went through the contents of his freezer.
“How does two-year-old pot roast sound?”
“Like food poisoning,” Tanner replied with a snort.
“Hardy, har, har!” Lance resumed digging.
From his vantage point, Tanner had a perfect view of Lance’s ass, and he was reminded of how much of his life had been turned upside down within a very short time. He stared at that very muscular, male ass, and contemplated the possibility of walking away before he’d even given his attraction to it a chance to take hold. He could—the door was right there. It would be easy to—limp his way out of Lance’s life and pretend this little walk on the wild gay side was just a freaky, whacked out dream. It would be simple. So fucking simple. Tanner was good at walking away and pretending everything was fine. He’d had lots of experience doing exactly that. He was a pro! He just—he didn’t want to. He wanted to hold onto this little slice of heaven, even if he didn’t believe he deserved it, or that it would last. He wanted to hold onto it with both hands, for as long as possible, regardless of the outcome. He had a feeling it would be worth it in the end. Fuck the world and its rules. So what if he’d gone from drooling over tits, to gawking at a man’s ass? It was his choice, dammit, and he was going to go after what he wanted, for however long he wanted it. And based on the strength of his hard on, he doubted he'd ever get over it.
“How about—frozen pancakes my mother made last Christmas?” Lance asked, not bothering to wait for Tanner’s response before continuing to excavate his freezer. It must have been a rhetorical question since the package did not get tossed out onto the counter for defrosting. Tanner was beginning to wonder if there was anything in there that was dated this year.
In the meantime, he reached the conclusion that Lance had the world’s greatest ass. Round and plump, it filled out his jeans perfectly. The urge to squeeze those incredible globes was intensely powerful, and Tanner couldn’t think of a single reason not to indulge himself. Placing his beer on the counter, he walked up behind Lance. He wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist and pressed flush against him, aware that Lance could feel how hard he was.
Lance groaned softly and pressed back. Tanner smiled and kissed the back of Lance’s neck.
“What brought this on?” Lance asked.
“I was admiring your ass,” Tanner admitted. He’d never said anything of the kind to anyone. Ever. But Lance made him feel so open about expressing himself. It was wonderfully freeing.
“Glad to know you approve,” he responded. Spinning around quickly in Tanner’s arms, he winked and smiled. “Food, Tanner. Food, then—everything else!” Right on cue his stomach growled.
Tanner burst out laughing. Reaching over Lance’s shoulder, he grabbed a bag of edamame from the freezer and dropped it on the counter. Then he kissed Lance once more before releasing him and gathering supplies to fix dinner.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Lance asked with a mocking smile.
“You said food before sex. So, I’m making you food,” Tanner explained with a shrug. Pulling soy sauce from the cupboard, he turned to see Lance’s mouth drop open.
“Don’t look so shocked! Hey, I know how to make the basics.”
“So, you’re cooking for me?” Lance asked, arms crossed, gaze teasing, as he leaned back against the refrigerator.
“Cooking for us—technically, but sure—I’m cooking for you,” he replied with a laugh.
Retrieving a package of Asian noodles from the cupboard to put with the edamame, he went back to the fridge, but Lance blocked his path.
“Need something?”
“Yeah. For your fine ass to move away from the fridge!” Tanner stated with a mock frown and shooing motion. “I need eggs.”
Lance huffed a laugh and stepped aside for Tanner to grab eggs and some vegetables.
“This cooking project of yours looks very promising so far, Chef Tanner. What’s on the menu tonight?” Lance moved to a spot behind the counter to sit on one of the bar stools, doing a fair imitation of an eager, hungry guest on a cooking show.
“Nope! Not going to tell you! Let’s keep the mystery alive until I’m done.” Tanner figured he’d surely jinx himself if he told Lance what he was planning to cook.
As Tanner began his prep work at the stove, Lance put on some music. The playlist was a mix of pop, hip-hop, rock, and some alternative music. When “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers came on, Tanner began to sing along as he cooked. Lance smirked fondly as Tanner began belting out the chorus right along with Brandon Flowers, the lead singer.
“Jealousy. Turning saints into the sea. Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibi. But it’s just the price I pay—”
Lance raised the volume, so Tanner felt obliged to up his game. He grabbed the nearest spatula, bobbing his head in time with the beat as he sang.
He wasn’t a great singer, but he could put on a show if he needed to. As the second verse started, he pretended Lance was one of many thousands in the audience. It wasn’t singing anymore as much as it was screaming into his fake microphone. Lance howled with laughter when Tanner placed the mic between them, encouraging Lance to sing along with him.
“Jealousy. Turning saints into the sea. Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibi. But it’s just the price I pay, destiny is calling me—” Lance’s voice was no better than Tanner’s, but he joined in on the chorus anyway, not caring what he might sound like. When their gazes met, they laughed their way through to the end. “Open up my eager eyes, ‘cause I’m Mr. Brightside!”
By the time the song faded into the outro, they were completely out of breath and smiling stupidly at one another.
“You had an emo phase in high school,” Lance said accusingly. “Admit it.”
Tanner waggled his eyebrows and laughed before leaning in to give Lance a brief kiss. As he started to pull away, Lance grabbed his ass and refused to let him go. His other hand snagged Tanner’s jaw, holding him gently in place as he deepened the kiss.
Tanner had gone so fucking long without any kind of physical intimacy. Every time they did this his nerve endings caught fire. A soft whimper escaped as he melted into Lance’s embrace. Lance chuckled as he pressed kisses to Tanner’s neck, nipping at the skin there. Tanner moaned and Lance moved back to his mouth, kissing him passionately, while grabbing his ass to lift him up and against him. Tanner clutched Lance’s shoulders, but as he shifted his weight, his left leg buckled, and he slipped out of Lance’s hold and dropped to the floor.
“Fuck!” Lance cried out fearfully. “Are you okay? Jesus, I’m so sorry!” Lance quickly shoved the bar stool out of the way and bent down to help Tanner.
“I’m fine. I moved wrong and my leg couldn’t handle it.” With an annoyed grimace, he held up a hand, silently asking Lance to help him up. The gesture reassured Lance, making him sigh with relief as he pulled him to his feet.
“Is that what they mean when they talk about sweeping someone off their feet?” Lance asked with an innocent smile.
Tanner laughed until tears came to his eyes. He tried for a serious expression as he responded, “Wow—big guy knocks a cripple to the ground and starts cracking jokes.”
“I’m sorry—I should have more respect for my elders,” Lance shot back, not falling for Tanner’s little act.
“Fuck off,” Tanner muttered, unable to hide his smile as he managed to stand upright again.
Lance looked good enough to eat, with his dimpled cheeks, sparkling gaze, and square jaw. He looked like a male model turned businessman. In what world did this guy fall for crippled, scarred Tanner, with his multiple tattoos, and his street tough looks?
Tanner kissed him again, just because he could.
“Food, Tanner,” Lance said as a quick reminder, even as he wrapped his arms around Tanner, in no hurry to let him go.
“Right,” Tanner replied, as he recalled what he’d been doing in the kitchen before the impromptu concert. “Coming right up!” he said, flashing Lance a mischievous smile as he wiggled out of his arms and headed back to the stove.
He wasn’t much of a cook, but Asian noodles had been one of his staples growing up. He cooked the udon noodles, then sautéed them with soy sauce, sesame oil, and brown sugar. Next, he topped them with two soft-boiled eggs, lots of edamame, and cooked vegetables. After scooping servings into two large bowls, he slid them across the counter with a smug grin, and they dug in.
“Damn,” Lance said, with a low whistle. “I bagged myself a sexy homemaker!”
Tanner choked on his bite of noodles. He grabbed his beer to wash it down, while Lance snickered.
“Was it the homemaker thing? Or the part about bagging you?” Lance asked with a sexy grin.
“Hilarious—Nope. My noodles just went down the wrong pipe,” he replied, shaking his head.
Lance looked unconvinced.
“I’m a numbers guy. I like numbers and concrete things.”
“Are we sharing kinks already? ‘Cause I’ll be honest, I don’t have too many at the moment, and I’m definitely not into calling other guys daddy—” Tanner replied, twirling noodles around his fork and avoiding Lance’s gaze.
“Tanner,” Lance said, clearly trying to keep the conversation at least marginally serious. Tanner looked up, a perfectly innocent look on his face.
“I don’t do well with uncertainty. I told you that. I like to predict outcomes, tie up any loose ends—all those stereotypical behaviors,” Lance confessed, starting to look and sound anxious. Tanner lost track of what he was about to say, surprised by Lance’s uncharacteristic nervousness.
“I’m not asking for specifics, but I need to know if we’re on the same page about things ,” Lance continued, trying to put on a brave face.
“About things?” Tanner suddenly lost his appetite, fearful that Lance would tell him that this couldn’t be a thing. They were just two dudes who’d gotten caught up in the heat of the moment. It was never meant to last. Storm in a teacup. Like a lightning strike. There couldn’t be a future. Not when they were both straight and—
“About us. I’m not going to pretend I do casual well. Whether it’s relationships or it’s wardrobe choices. I wear dress slacks and button-down shirts to work every day—even when I’m working from home.” He stopped to laugh self-consciously before continuing. “I’m a commitment guy, and I know that it’s probably way too soon to ask about your level of commitment here, but if all we’re headed for is meaningless sex—I just can’t. It’ll drive me fucking insane.” There was a plea in his eyes that Tanner wondered if he could answer. “Listen Tanner, you’re a great guy, and I’m sure you have a string of women begging for your attention but—”
The string of women thing surprised the hell out of Tanner, and he couldn’t help but laugh. He’d been frozen with confusion for a minute, but that last claim had thawed him instantly. Begging for his attention? Him? Fuck, he hadn’t so much as glanced at a woman since he’d returned to the US. Never mind made a move on one. Tanner raised both hands to stave off Lance’s next volley.
“I don’t have a string of women. Like at all—” Looking directly into Lance’s eyes, he hoped Lance would see he was telling the truth. But Lance remained stoic and unmoved. Tanner realized Lance needed more to go on than that to be fully reassured.
“Fine, I guess it’s confession time, then,” he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath before starting. “I haven’t been with anyone since I’ve been back. Like—no dates, not even a kiss. Hell—I haven’t been able to—get some elevation , in over three years.”
At that, Lance leaned back in his seat, looking puzzled.
“Elevation?”
“A hard-on. A boner. A woody. You know—a stiffy! Good God man, I haven’t been able to pitch a tent in years!” he declared, blushing from head to toe. He probably looked like a boiled lobster he was so goddamned flustered.
“No—” Lance said, shaking his head.
“No?” Tanner’s eyes widened in disbelief. What the hell did he mean, no?
“Well, it’s just—I saw you,” Lance confessed, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“You saw me ?” Tanner asked, his voice a few notes shy of a shriek.
“I was heading downstairs to get something to drink in the middle of the night and you were— handling business on the couch.” Lance nodded towards the living room, shrugging helplessly.
Tanner burst out laughing. “You watched me jack off? You pervert!”
“Not on purpose!” Lance defended weakly. “But I saw you, so—"
Tanner snorted and shook his head.
“You’re right about seeing me jack off that night. But I’m not lying about the problems I was having with not being able to perform. I couldn’t get it up, and then—well my therapist told me to branch out —change my point of reference, like different settings and partners,” he explained, barely able to meet Lance’s gaze. “That night you watched me—it was the first time I’d managed to get anything going in years—and it’s because I was thinking of you.”
They stared at each other in silence. Lance’s mind was completely blown by what he’d just heard. Tanner took a deep breath and decided to go for broke.
“So—no. I don’t have a long line of women falling at my feet, and even if I did—my dick and I aren’t interested. Realistically, I don’t know what I’ll be—able to give?—” he licked his lips nervously, “I have a fucking cargo plane’s worth of trauma that I’m struggling with, but I’m down with giving us a chance if you are.”
“Just so we’re clear—” Lance started then paused to gather his thoughts. While he sounded perfectly serious, he hadn’t quite managed to temper his smile enough to look serious. “Did you just say that your therapist told you to go gay?”
Tanner wadded up his napkin and chucked it at Lance. It bounced off his forehead.
“You’re such a dick,” he said without any real heat. He was about to push away from the table—if only just to make a big scene—when Lance reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. When Tanner met his gaze, Lance looked serious again, his eyes filled with warmth.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“Stop, I feel like a fucking teenage girl again.” Tanner pretended to shudder with disgust. “So, I couldn’t pop a boner. Whatever. Now I’m into dick. No big deal. We’re mutually exclusive and I’m still stealing your couch.” He adopted an exaggerated frown. “No need to get all—mushy about it!” he declared, as he got up and headed to the kitchen to clean up his mess from cooking dinner.
Lance was right on his heels. He came up behind him and hugged him as he stood at the sink.
“One, you’re a terrible liar. Two, you’re wrong about one thing,” Lance said, placing a gentle kiss behind Tanner’s right ear.
“Hmm?” Tanner couldn’t think beyond the feel of Lance’s boner shoved against his ass. Fuck. Why did he want to lean back against it? Why was he already so fucking hard at the thought of being under him?
“You’re not stealing the couch. You’re staying over, and you’re staying in my bed—that’s the new ironclad rule,” he declared, and hell if Tanner didn’t melt as he kissed the back of his neck.
“Tell me dishes weren’t included in the food-first, sex-after rule,” Tanner practically begged as his head bent forward to grant Lance easier access to his neck.
In response, Lance bit Tanner’s earlobe.
He spun around, ready to take some sweet revenge, but Lance sidestepped him, smacked his ass, and then backed away.
“Fuck the dishes! Let’s test out your new elevation, ” he proposed instead, grinning ear-to-ear as he baited Tanner into following him.
Tanner fell for the bait this time quite willingly.