19. Chris #3
He grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and went outside to sip his coffee on the balcony as the freezing cold wind whipped around him, letting himself zone out, watching the streets slowly awaken below. The cold felt good. Grounding.
The sound of the door opening startled him. “Don’t jump. It’s not that bad,” drawled the voice that haunted his dreams.
Isaiah’s feet were covered in fluffy rainbow socks, but otherwise, he was still dressed as he had been in the club. Nothing salacious—a tight white T-shirt just short enough to show a sliver of skin above his low-slung jeans.
“Isn’t it?” Chris replied, though he pushed himself back from the railing and sat on the edge of a settee. “Don’t worry, Owens, I wouldn’t do that. Too messy. I’ve put enough people out already.”
Isaiah’s face shifted rapidly through a variety of expressions, as though he wasn’t quite sure how to react. “Seriously though, it’s fucking freezing out here, what are you doing?”
“It’s refreshing. Helps me think.”
There was a beat of silence between them.
Isaiah shuffled, rubbing his hands over his arms in the cold.
Chris sighed and opened the blanket, gesturing for Isaiah to come share, though he was shocked when the man actually complied, perching awkwardly on the edge of the settee, very deliberately not touching.
“I, erm…thank you, for last night. For not…you know,” Isaiah said.
“You don’t have to thank me for not taking advantage of you.”
Isaiah nodded. “I know. I—thanks for putting up with my belligerent arse though, and getting me back safe.”
“I’d have done it for anyone.”
Isaiah moved closer as the wind whipped up a blast of cold air on the relatively sheltered balcony. The shock of skin touching sent shivers up Chris’s spine. “Still, I, unfortunately, am not the type of drunk to black out, and I was kind of horrible…so sorry.”
“You were fine.”
“Green, I really wasn’t.”
Chris sighed. He looked out at the sea. “Look, can we just call a truce or something?”
“A truce?”
“I’m tired of pretending we don’t know each other. I’m tired of the glares from your friends and treading on eggshells anytime someone mentions you.”
Isaiah looked like he was weighing the words, considering it. “Aren’t you embarrassed though?”
“Of what? That I have good taste in porn? I’ve got far more to be embarrassed about.”
Isaiah cracked a grin. “You do have good taste.”
“Yeah, well, unfortunately it’s hard to find anything that does it for me these days since I’ve been banned from the best of it, just like I’m banned from everything good in life.” Chris felt Isaiah’s muscles tense. “I don’t mean anything by it.” He sighed. “It’s my own fault, on both accounts.”
“A truce?” Isaiah asked finally.
“That’s what I said.”
“And maybe I should… I could unblock you,” Isaiah mumbled.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, but…well, I’m clearly leaving money on the table here.”
Chris laughed.
“Fuck, my head is killing me,” Isaiah muttered. “So much for my plan to destroy all you Olympians at Parkrun this morning.”
“I’m sorry, at what?”
“Parkrun. Saturday morning. It was on the itinerary.”
Chris stared at Isaiah. He couldn’t be serious. “The itinerary? I thought that was a joke.”
“Would it be breaking our truce if I threw you off this balcony?” Isaiah mused.
Chris pushed down the feeling that brought up in him, and flicked Isaiah in the ribs.
Isaiah twitched. “Don’t, I’m so ticklish.”
It was the wrong thing to say. A grin passed over Chris’s face. “Oh, you mean here?” he asked as he ran his fingers over the exposed skin of Isaiah’s abdomen.
“Oh my god.”
Chris tickled him again, laughing as he squirmed against him until they were both nearly in tears of laughter that stopped abruptly when Chris’s rapidly swelling cock rubbed against Isaiah’s thigh.
He jumped away, almost toppling the settee, and cleared his throat.
“So, are you planning to wake the others, or are they getting a pass on the morning workout?”
Isaiah stood, running a hand through his hair and subtly adjusting himself in his jeans. Chris’s eyes tracked the movement though, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t the only one who’d been affected.
“Of course I am. Half the fun of this is getting to watch Ell and Jackson destroy the local club runners with banging hangovers while dressed in wedding gowns.”
Chris grinned. “Fuck, I love the way your mind works.” He swallowed. “Sorry. Is that… Am I allowed to say that?”
“I’ll allow it.” Isaiah grinned back, then he paused. “Erm, Parkrun doesn’t count as competition, so you should be fine, but it is timed. I checked with Carl, and he said it won’t contravene the ban, but I understand if you don’t want to.”
“You thought of that?” Chris asked. “For me?” Even when he professed to hate him, Isaiah was so casually thoughtful that Chris’s eyes burned.
Isaiah shrugged. “I worked hard on your case; wouldn’t want to fuck it up.”
Chris nodded, his heart couldn’t take this. He stood abruptly, carrying his blanket and mug inside. “Wanna wake the lovebirds while I get more coffee on?”