Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate (21 page)

Knuckles sandwiched between the mirror and Tyler’s hand, wrist bound to the rail, Memphis tried to turn and send him a sarcastic grin. Without warning, Tyler wrapped his arm around Memphis’s neck and gripped the opposite shoulder, totally immobilizing him.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Memphis hissed out.

And then Tyler thrust so hard Memphis was reduced to strangled whimpers—weak little wimpy whimpers that, if he hadn’t already lost his second nut, would have revoked his man status for good.

The delicious friction and heated, pleasurable pressure built, both inside and out as his prostate kept getting hit. Beads of sweat stuck to the hair at his temples. Back arched at the angle that kept the sweet spot in the line of fire, Memphis braced himself, unfolding his fist to flatten his free hand against the mirror.

With every powerful snap of Tyler’s hips, Memphis was shoved forward a bit, and his damp palm slipped, leaving a wet smear and distorting their reflection. His breath came out in jagged puffs, each one fogging the mirror before fading, and then reappearing all over again with the next panting exhalation. And inside he was screaming…or hyperventilating. Or maybe he was dying. But he was definitely thanking God and Allah and Zeus above—and whoever else was up there watching—for making this beautiful, wonderful, powerful man.

Their eyes met in the reflection again. Tyler’s black hair, damp with sweat, was plastered against his forehead. He looked intense, his colorless gaze burning. And the sight of Tyler fucking him brought Memphis closer to exploding. God, he needed…something.

“Do it, Ty,” he rasped out. “Come on,
do it
.”

He had no idea how Tyler knew what Memphis wanted when he didn’t even know himself. But somehow he read the desperation in his plea. The arm around Memphis’s neck tightened a bit, pressing in on his throat just enough to get noticed—as if to cut off his air—and Tyler thrust his hips hard. A rush of adrenaline flooded Memphis’s veins, an intense pleasure bordering on pain that made him feel so
alive.

And when the orgasm hit, it fucking
hit
.

Memphis came so hard he hurt, relief rushing through his limbs as the white light engulfed him.

~~~***~~~

Body trembling from exertion, lungs working overtime, Tyler gripped the rail for support. He fought to recover from an orgasm so powerful he vaguely wondered if the elevator roof had been blown skyward during the discharge. He swiped at the sweat burning his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. And then he regretted the maneuver, his eyes functioning a little
too
well.

Naked and struggling for breath, Memphis had his forehead pressed against the wall. His face was flushed red, his clothes lay scattered across the floor, and his cum had left a streak on the mirror. Worse, there was a red mark around Memphis’s wrist and—oh, God—a fainter one on his neck.

Judas Priest, what had he just done?

But he knew. He’d lost his friggin’ mind.

Tyler sagged against the wall and dropped his head back. He’d let Memphis provoke him, the man all but admitting to trying to get him to crack. And, Tyler, well…he’d fallen right in line with his plans.

But he hadn’t just cracked, he’d
shattered
.

He wasn’t too proud to admit the truth. Part of what had just gone down had been an age-old urge to bring Memphis to his knees—metaphorically speaking…mostly—and demonstrate, in great detail, all that he’d been missing out on. And the only thing
more
pitiful than repeated failures at relationships was the deep-seated need to show his ex what he’d left behind.

Except, maybe, the need to prove that he could fuck Memphis as good, if not better, than a woman. That was the most pitiful of all.

Sonofabitch
.

Tyler’s stomach rolled, and he groaned, pressing his fingers to his head. He truly was pathetic.

Shutting all the thoughts down, Tyler squatted and picked up the closest article of clothing, cleaning the mess from the mirror. But there was no wiping away his actions.

Or the
memory
.

“Hey,” Memphis said, the protest weak because his chest heaved with every breath. He rolled his head against the wall to look down at Tyler. “Those cost almost fifty dollars a pair.”

Tyler finally focused on the fabric in his hand and then glanced up at Memphis with what must have been an incredulous expression. After what had just happened, after Tyler had come completely unhinged, the guy was worried about his designer briefs?

Tyler swallowed back the urge to let out a hysterical laugh, trying to figure out how to salvage the situation. But he’d been through far worse and survived—twice. So Tyler held Memphis’s gaze for a moment, refusing to look like he felt: undone and unraveled, whipped and
confused
.

“Okay,” Memphis said, followed by a huff of humor, “so Fifth and Taylor sends them to me for free. But now you got spooge on my underwear.”

Squaring his shoulders, Tyler stood and dug deep for a droll tone. “If you can handle having a ten-story picture of your ass on display in downtown LA, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble going commando on the way to the condo.”

First order of business? Get the hell out of the elevator.

Tyler cleaned himself with the boxer briefs. And because he totally lacked alternatives, he wrapped the tied-off condom in the underwear, too, ignoring the “Jesus, Tyler” that came from Memphis.

Bare-assed, the man stepped into his pants. As Memphis dressed, Tyler fixed his appearance as best he could, undoing the knot in his tie and stuffing the fabric into his pocket. After a quick glance at Memphis’s golden-brown hair damp with sweat and rumpled, Tyler lifted the phone on the elevator panel.

Security finally answered, and Tyler hoped to God he’d sound calm and collected. As if he hadn’t just
completely
lost his mind.

“We managed to get the emergency stop unstuck,” he said.

Memphis rolled his eyes, and Tyler signed off before hanging up the receiver.

“Yeah,” Memphis said. “Like they’re gonna believe that.”

“He did sound a little suspicious.”

At this point, he didn’t care. He just wanted
out
of this elevator.

Tyler pulled out the stop button and pushed the number for Noah’s floor. With a small jerk, the elevator began its slow climb again, only this time the ascent was accompanied by silence. The lack of conversation did nothing to ease Tyler’s tension. What he needed was to find somewhere he could recover in peace. Alone. But when the doors
whooshed
open, Noah was leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed.

Shit. So much for recovering alone.

His friend shifted his gaze between Tyler and Memphis, both flushed and sweaty and smelling of sex, before his eyes landed on the designer briefs still clutched in Tyler’s hand.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Noah said.

Tyler mentally groaned and handed the balled-up underwear to Memphis, as if passing the proverbial hot potato meant the holder had to deal with the man staring at them with delight. Memphis’s mouth twitched in humor as he took the bundle.

Hoping to discourage conversation, Tyler avoided his friend’s gaze and exited the elevator. Memphis followed on his heels. As Tyler headed up the corridor with a purpose—that purpose being to remove himself from the presence of these two men—he kept his eyes on the condo door.

“Security called to tell me you two got stuck,” Noah said as he matched Tyler stride for stride.

Not much farther
.

“He was worried that I’d wonder where my guests were,” his friend continued, obviously entertained by the idea.

Five more feet
.

Tyler focused on his goal. Four more feet and they’d be at the condo door, and he could escape Noah’s laughing gaze and Memphis’s…everything.

“Weren’t you worried about the video cameras in the elevator?” Noah asked.

Fuck.

Tyler stopped dead and Memphis plowed into his back. The contact with the hard body from behind and the hands that gripped his hips sent Tyler’s mind racing toward the gutter. God, he really needed to get away from Memphis and collect his thoughts.

“I’m just kidding about the cameras,” Noah said. “There aren’t any. I checked after the first time I went down on a guy in elevator number three.” He opened his condo door and stepped aside so they could enter. “I have to hand it to you, Tyler. When you decided to break your No More Exes rule, you did it in style.”

Biting his tongue, Tyler ignored him and trailed Memphis down the hall that led to the guest bedroom and the office with the futon. Noah didn’t follow, thank God. Tyler was just about to reach his destination and blessed freedom when Memphis stopped in the hallway and pivoted on his foot, facing him. And presenting an obstacle between Tyler and the office door.

Damn.

Looking drained, Memphis shoved a hand through his hair, the ends damp and sticking up. He studied Tyler for a moment, mouth parted as if to speak.

Not now. Don’t discuss this
now
. I can’t take any more
.

He felt like whimpering, and Tyler’s heart couldn’t decide whether to pound harder or stop altogether. He had absolutely nothing to say right now. All he had to show for the mind-blowing event in the elevator was exhaustion and a hollowed-out feeling. He’d just had the most amazing sex of his life, but right now Tyler felt…empty inside.

“Listen,” Memphis said wearily as he rubbed his face, “after the day I’ve had, I’m in desperate need of some sleep. Should I get my duffel bag as planned and drive back to my hotel? Or can I crash here again tonight?”

As tired as he looked, a
car
crash seemed highly likely. He’d get himself killed and maybe take a few innocent victims with him.

“I’ll take the futon,” Tyler said.

“No way,” he said. “That sucker is far too uncomfortable, and I already kicked you out of your room once. Either you sleep here with me or I drive back to the hotel tonight.” He propped a hand on his hip. “Do you have a problem sharing a bed with me?”

A desperate
yes
screamed in Tyler’s head followed directly by a
no
.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

And then Memphis held his hands up. “Trust me, I’m way too beat to try anything.”

Tyler let out a soft snort, his lips twisting wryly. He knew the smart thing to do would be to go back to the futon. He also knew Memphis would make good on his threat to leave.

“As long as you promise not to snore like you used to,” Tyler said.

Although he still looked washed out, Memphis flashed his signature dimpled grin. “At least I wasn’t the one who hogged all the covers.”

The next morning, Tyler rolled over, seeking out the warmth of Memphis’s skin but finding cold sheets instead. Several seconds passed as he blinked in confusion before he bolted upright.

Memphis was
gone
.

A heart-pounding, panic-filled sensation tore through Tyler as he scanned the bedroom. For a split second, he relived that horrendous moment he’d come home only to discover Memphis had packed up his things, not a trace of him left in the apartment.

And all the achingly lonely days that had followed.

Then his eyes landed on Memphis’s duffel bag in the corner of the guest bedroom, and Tyler’s shoulders relaxed in relief. He crossed his legs, planting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, heart still thumping hard.

Good God, how had he let things come to this?

Since he’d first hunted Memphis down, Tyler had been backsliding. Over the course of two days, he’d slowly tossed every good intention aside, one by one. Blowing off the leftover pent-up emotion and the lust by fucking Memphis was one thing. Waking up in bed and worrying the man had taken off for good? Quite another.

Christ, he felt as though he was slowly slipping toward a place he didn’t want to be.

He’d employed every relaxation technique he knew trying to keep his cool while dealing with Memphis. At this point, he’d be willing to listen to Marconi Union’s trance-inducing song Weightless—all ten, mind-numbing monotonous hours of the Youtube version—just to deaden himself sufficiently enough to deal with what lay ahead.

Since that wasn’t a viable option, Tyler crawled out of bed and climbed into the shower, concentrating on the sound and feel of the warm spray on his skin, the fresh scent of soap. He cleared his mind of every thought until he felt more in control and the water turned cool. Feeling better, he dressed and walked up the hallway into the living room. And then he spied Noah sitting on the couch.

Brown eyes on Tyler, his friend said, “So…”

Every attempt at achieving a zen-like state exploded like one of Memphis’s ill-timed fake cans of fuel.

“Is this it?” Noah went on. “Official freak-out time?”

God, yes
.

Instead, Tyler said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is this where I finally get to watch you come apart at the seams?” he said as he stood.

Tyler definitely felt like he was unraveling.

He met his friend’s gaze for a moment, but he had no idea how to express all of the muddled thoughts in his mind, so he headed into the kitchen. Unfortunately, Noah didn’t take the lack of response as an unwillingness to talk.

Then again, he never did.

“Eventually Memphis will be the one to tip the Ice Man over the edge,” Noah said as he passed by Tyler on the way to the cupboard. “Until then, have something to drink. I know you’re not much of a coffee person, but after last night,” he said, setting two mugs on the center island, “I figured this morning you might need the caffeine.”

Tyler came to a stop at the counter, wondering if it was worth the energy to try to avoid the upcoming discussion or not.

Noah filled both cups with coffee and slid one closer. “Cream or sugar?”

“Neither.” After a brief pause, he pulled out a barstool and sat down. “Do you have soy milk?”

“Of course,” Noah said. “One of my closest friends happens to be a health nut.”

Tyler sent him half a smile. “Really?”