CHAPTER NINETEEN NICK #2
“Enjoying yourself?” I quip, and he raises his head from his bowl of noodles mid-bite, cocking an eyebrow and swallowing abruptly.
“What does it look like?” He takes a swig from the glass of water next to him. “I’m making up for lost time.”
What it looks like is clear. He’s ordered around twenty-five bucks worth of food for the two of us, which is a lot, and he’s eaten over two-thirds of everything. It’s after the lunch rush, so we snagged a secluded booth, giving this guy the license to act however he wants.
The funny thing is that I find it cute, the way he looks so damn happy here. Sure, he’s barely holding back pleasured moans, but the satisfied smile that lives on his face is infectious—if he’s happy, so am I.
“Alright, I’m through,” he announces after clearing the last plate of food and leaning back. The hem of his sweater rides up, and of course I have to ogle the sexy strip of skin that reveals itself. “Wanna head out?”
“Sure.” I pull out my phone to pay. “I’ll get this one.”
Dean snickers. “Too late. I already paid when I ordered.”
Bastard.
“But hey, you’re technically visiting me,” he continues, “so it’s my job to take care of you.”
Not bastard. Fuck, if that doesn’t make my stomach go all fuzzy.
It isn’t like I haven’t been taken care of by a friend before, but this feels different.
My one semester of Chinese is only holding up through basic interactions here, and for everything else, I’m dependent on Dean to lead the way.
And honestly, it’s relaxing. I can shut my brain off and let him show me around.
We take what he calls the long way back to his place, leaving the mall we had lunch at and walking along the lake.
There’s a crisp breeze cutting through the warm air, rippling the water and shaking the bare branches of the many willow trees lining the waterfront, as well as making Dean’s hair fall cutely in front of his face.
I plunge my fingers into the strands and ruffle them even more while he protests, threatening to throw me into the lake, and I take off running, first as a joke, and then more seriously when I remember he has longer legs than me and can actually catch up.
And when he does, the douchebag tackles me onto the soft grass, the two of us laughing our damn heads off while I try to shove him away.
I missed this—horsing around and acting like a fool with a friend. Dean and I are almost equally matched size-wise, too, so I don’t have to worry about hurting him as much, like I would with someone like Ian.
Not-so-innocently feeling Dean’s body on mine is a plus, too.
But we recover some semblance of normalcy, choosing to keep heading back while enjoying the afternoon sun.
Most of the way takes us through a neatly paved pedestrian area, still along the quiet lakefront, and the few main roads we walk by are tree-lined and almost silent.
It’s relaxing, and I can’t help but rest my tired head on Dean’s warm shoulder. There’s an urge to hold his hand, too, but I restrain myself. We don’t need any of that energy. Or any more of it.
Dean grabs an armful of packages from a locker in the basement of his building, and I steal some of his pre-workout while he gleefully opens them.
It’s quiet in this neighborhood, and even quieter in his housing compound’s gym.
I still need to keep up with conditioning, even when I’m on the other side of the world.
If anything, it helps with jet lag, too. Or maybe it’s the pre-workout.
And Dean coming to join me after half an hour, wearing a freaking tank top, wakes me right up again. I roll my eyes when I catch him staring at me in the mirror as I crank out some lat pulldowns, and I ogle him right back, licking my lips for effect when he spreads his legs to lie back on a bench.
Having an actual target, or outlet, for all these urges is damn refreshing, even when it makes my productivity tank. But I press on.
We keep our sweaty selves safely distanced on the way back after our workout, at least until we jump in the shower together. And as much as feeling his slippery skin under the jets riles me the hell up, it’s the deep kiss I plant on his lips that really gets to me.
Yeah, it’s wet of course, but it still tastes like him. Those little sighs he makes when he claws at my back are pretty sweet, too. God, he’s amazing, and I can’t get enough.
Dean’s fingers find their way to my cock, tugging me to full mast, and he gets on his knees to blow me. All I can focus on is the reverent expression behind his gaze when he takes me deep, and the satisfied smile he wears once I’m done.
I bend down, and he stops me, pulling me back upright.
“I can wait,” he says. “My parents are gonna be home soon.”
“Suit yourself.” I soap my hands up and clean him off, making sure to torture him a little when I get to his dick.
He only scoffs, massaging some herbal-smelling conditioner into my hair and kissing my forehead.
And that’s what it takes for me to freeze in the middle of cleaning his nuts. A damn forehead kiss.
All I can think of is Fuck, I wish we could be more than friends.
Which is super freaking inconvenient. Still, it’s natural—Dean’s a great guy, and there’s a reason why we’re friends. I just have to keep things that way, not let him know I’m slipping up, and not get too bothered by him remaining so casual and friendly with me.
So I redirect, choosing to twist my soapy hands around his shaft and annoy him even more.
Rule one of a friends-with-benefits arrangement: don’t catch feelings.
Rule two: if you do, keep them down. Unless they’re reciprocated, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t.
Sighing to myself, I step out of the shower to towel off and get dressed, smacking Dean’s horny hands away when he grabs my ass.
“Behave yourself,” I order, slipping into fresh jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. “I know you don’t want to be boned-up around your parents.”
He smirks back, not gracing me with a reply. At least we can still have fun with each other.
And then I get a mean idea. I make a sneaky stop at my backpack before joining him in the living room where he’s tidying up.
“So, uh, what should I call your parents?” I ask. Dean says they speak English, which is a relief for me.
He furrows his brow. “Maybe… Shoot. Maybe just avoid names. Just, like, say hi and whatever and make it very clear who you’re speaking to.”
I snort. “Sure. I’ll do my best to not say anyone’s name, ever.” Smirking at him, I reach into my pocket and retrieve my glasses, watching with glee as horror seeps across his face. “They can’t fault me for much if I look this smart, can I?”
“Why are you doing this to me?” he hisses. “I’m already nervous about you meeting my parents, and now you’re distracting me even more.”
“What are you talking about?” I reply with all the false innocence I can muster. “I thought I’d try looking smart so they like me.”
He rolls his eyes. “The fucking slutty glasses aren’t helping. All I can think about is taking them off your face with my teeth.”
“Don’t blame me for your weird glasses kink,” I reply, shoving his shoulder.
Dean doesn’t have time to think of a comeback, because the lock clicks. I quickly peck him on the forehead before the door opens, and I hang back, ready to behave and charm this guy’s parents.
And hopefully not give away the fact that I like their son a little more than a regular friend should.
His mom enters first. She places her bag on the table next to the front door, and then his dad follows right after.
Seeing him lets me know immediately where Dean gets his height from.
His mom isn’t short, but his dad is tall, and when Dean steps over to say hi, it’s clear he’s the tallest of the three.
Dean might have two inches on me, but the slight tilt of my head that’s needed to look him in the eyes makes my chest squeeze every damn time.
Shoot. I have to stop obsessing over this sexy man and meet his parents while flaunting my distracting eyewear.
I head over right as Dean steps aside, and both of his parents smile at me. They’re in casual clothes, so they’re probably the ones to set the rules at work.
“Hi, you must be Nick,” his dad says in English. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“It’s really great meeting you, too.” I shake both of their hands. “Thank you for letting me say.”
I won’t lie, I’ve never been great at small talk, and the nerves pricking my stomach are enough proof.
“Of course. We’re happy our son brought a friend,” his mom says before turning to Dean. “He looks smart.”
Oh my god, she commented on my glasses! Dean makes a terse, noncommittal noise, but there’s no way I’m letting him off the hook that easily.
“These?” I push the lenses up the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, they’re a huge help. I can barely see without them.”
His parents nod affirmatively before saying something about dinner plans, and as soon as their backs are turned, I focus my attention on Dean, who’s gently glaring at me.
I remove my glasses, causing his tensed muscles to relax a bit, only for me to bite my lower lip, shoot him a flirty wink, and slip the tip of my glasses into my mouth seductively.
Sheesh, his helpless little blush is fucking adorable, and I just know I’m gonna be torturing him all throughout dinner.
And maybe for the whole two weeks we’re here.
Making him squirm is so damn fun, and I can’t fucking wait.