Deliver Us (5 page)

Looking up at Gabriel with wide eyes, Darrek reaches out an unsteady hand and takes it from him.

Gabriel walks to the door, pulling it open. He hesitates, then says over his shoulder, “Don’t let anyone else here know that you have that, okay? Put it in your pocket.”

“O-okay.”

Then he’s gone and the door is shut again.

He opens the folded paper, blinking at it and the looping scrawl of letters and numbers:

My private number is 340-555-2789.

Please call me. No pressure. No rules. No expectations. I promise.

— Gabriel Hunter

“Oh my god,” Darrek gasps. He looks quickly around and carefully refolds the paper, pushing it into his pocket.

His shoes are sitting by the side of the cot. He slips them on and stands, groaning as he does. Walking to the door, Darrek is more than a little bow-legged but he doesn’t care in the slightest. He finds his way out of the building and back to his Tundra. Once behind the wheel, he pulls the paper out again, running his fingers over the writing. The business card he’d taken from the front desk, from Sam, is set on the passenger seat, the white cardstock gleaming against the brown leather. The embossed name of the establishment, Diadem, casts shadows in the sunlight. But the paper cradled carefully in his hand, the one that he shouldn’t have, but does, is the one that has his attention.

“Gabriel...” he whispers, trying the name out, seeing how it sounds, how it feels in his mouth.

He returns the paper to his pocket and guns the engine, throwing the gearshift into reverse. As he rolls down the gravel road, feeling keenly every bump under the wheels as the unevenness of the surface bounces him a little in his seat, he shifts and writhes, still able to feel vividly the effects of Gabriel’s ministrations, the ache in his balls, the soreness in his ass.

Darrek sighs happily and smiles widely.

He turns on the stereo, cranking up the music. Singing along to it, he slides on his aviator sunglasses, shakes the hair out of his face and laughs contentedly to himself as he drives.

“Two lagers, please,” Gabriel mutters to the waitress. He’s seated in a booth at the back of a local bar, tucked away in a dimly lit corner across from his co-worker and best friend, Ben Knox. Ben’s naturally curly, light hair has been buzzed short, only drawing more attention to the mischief constantly brewing in his vivid, royal blue eyes.

It has been a long-ass week, and Gabriel has a lot on his mind. Knowing it’s futile, that the interrogation is coming whether he likes it or not, he avoids his friend’s all-seeing, probing gaze, and slouches low in his seat.

Once the girl is gone, Ben turns to Gabriel and immediately says, “So, what the fuck, man? What happened with you and that newbie? I
heard
Sam reaming you out. She was pissed!”

“Hey, it’s on me. She knows that. My decision. My client. And it’s not like it’s never happened before,” he adds defensively.

“Not with
you
! Sweet little virgin-Dom Gabey,” Ben huffs offhandedly. He lounges back casually, stretching his arm out and scoping out the bar. From what he can tell, it seems to be filled mostly with regulars. Some people he recognizes, most he doesn’t. They’ve never come to this particular bar together before, but decided to give it a try, since it’s close to their end of town, safely on the outskirts of things. Ben knows it’s never too crowded, not too crazy. Just the way they like it.

“Don’t fucking call me that. Asshole,” Gabriel glares, taking his beer with a badly-plastered-on, polite smile from the waitress when she returns.

“I speak the truth.”

“I’m not a fucking
virgin
.”

“Oh, really?” Ben sighs, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yes, really. Aren’t we talking about the fact that I fucked a client during a scene?”

“Yeah, but....”

“Or maybe I’m mistaken?”

“Gabe....”

“Or maybe you want to talk to Harry. Get him on the goddamned phone and ask
him
about it?” Gabriel seethes at Ben with his voice lowered.

“Dude! Calm down! What crawled up your ass and died? That’s not what I’m fucking talking about and you know it. And I would never throw the Harry shit in your face. Do you really think I’m that much of a heartless bastard?”

“No... Jesus,” he groans, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “I’m sorry. Can we just have a beer, please? And not talk about this shit?”

“Of course. So tell me... total piece of ass?” Ben asks eagerly, eyes twinkly with glee and salivating at the thought. “He was, right? You wouldn’t have fucked him otherwise. He had to be something
really
special. What’s your type, Gabey? Cute little twink? Or maybe a big muscle-bound dude? Tell me.”

“Ben....”

“No way. I am
not
letting this go,” he says sternly, his face going sour with frustration. “You’re always avoiding shit and being so goddamned secretive and I’m tired of it! Fucking
tell me
, Hunter!”

Gabriel laughs giddily, snorting into his beer, saying sarcastically, “Yes, Master.”

That gets Ben laughing too.

“Oops. Wow, you know, I totally did that to a bank teller yesterday. Did I tell you about that? Some chick that was giving me a hard time with a deposit I was trying to make into my money market account. Didn’t even realize it until she started to fucking
cower
behind the desk and kept saying, ‘Of course, sir.’ Totally gave me wood.”

“That’s alarming.”

“I know! Right?!” he says, puzzled. “Maybe I’m becoming bi... like a late bloomer type of thing. Hmm.”

Ben glances up as a decent-looking guy in a button-down shirt and leather jacket approaches the table with his eyes locked on Gabriel like a heat-seeking missile finding its target. Before the guy can even get the first word out, Ben sets his jaw, his eyes sharp as daggers, looking for all the world like the utter picture of ‘you-do-not-want-to-fuck-with-me’ that’s made him so successful in the industry, and says, “He’s NOT INTERESTED.”

“But....”

“
Leave
.”

Proverbial tail between his legs, the man turns and goes back to his spot at the far end of the bar.

“Hey, I don’t need you to be my damn
bodyguard
, Knox. I’m a big boy.”

“Oh suck my dick, Gabey. I’m sick of all these pervs trying to get in your pants. It’s like we can’t even go out anymore.” After taking a long sip of his beer, he continues with, “So back to my original question....”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, setting his half-empty beer down on the coaster, and leans forward over the table. Ben leans forward too, just out of impatience to get all the juicy details.

“Well...? How hot was his ass?” Ben prods and kicks Gabriel’s foot under the table.

“Okay... first off, he’s huge, like six-foot-six, six-foot-seven. Body so fucking tight and tan and toned you just want to lick every inch of him. Just his fucking pecs alone...
god
. Then he’s got this long, shoulder-length light brown hair with golden highlights from the sun and little waves in it, like if you got it really wet it’d just be these curly tendrils hanging in his eyes. But he’s
beautiful
, too. Literally beautiful, and it’s like he doesn’t even know it. Immaculate bone structure, and these big, like, almond-shaped eyes, that are this rich burning brown, you could just fall into them.”

“
And
...?”

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips, and he admits, “Yeah.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Details, Hunter! Details!” he demands, pounding on the table with an open palm. He almost knocks his beer over.

“Totally proportional and then some. Fucking breathtaking. My mouth seriously would not stop watering.
And
the reason why I just
needed
to suck on those huge balls of his right before I fucked his tight virgin ass. God, he screamed so pretty. Fucking begged me to do it, too.”

Gabriel takes a sip and gets lost for a moment in the bliss of the memory. Until Ben speaks, that is.

“...My dick is so hard right now,” Ben says solemnly.

“Dude!”

“What?! I’m just picturing you sucking on some Greek god’s sac with Trace watching the whole damn thing. Of
course
I’m turned on!”

Gabriel has a moment of panic where he’s convinced that Ben is going to either loudly applaud him or whip out his cock and just start beating off in the middle of the bar.

“I’m totally not giving you a hand job,” Gabriel says, pointing a finger at Ben in warning, his lips wrapping around the bottle again. “That’s
all
on you.... Oh... fuck me.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel says quickly, shifting even lower in his seat and sliding a little to the right.

“You’re
hiding
for nothing? What the hell is...” Ben says in disbelief, turning to look behind him to where Gabriel is currently sneaking glances. “Oh
HELL
yes. THAT is
mine
.”

“I know. Don’t stare!”

“Why? Oh... wait. Is that... Is that
him
?!
THAT
is the client you fucked?!”

Gabriel reaches across the table and smacks Ben upside the head as a few people turn around to look at them.

“Shut up!” he growls. “Shut!
Up!
”

“Shit, I’d fuck that too,” Ben smiles. “You got the luck of the draw, baby.”

“No, Sam gave him to me because it was his first time and I’m known to be less blatantly cruel than you or Trace. It wasn’t luck. And he
has
a name, you know. His name is Darrek,” he murmurs, staring at the pair of men at the other end of the room as they enter the bar and find an empty table to sit at. He’s enraptured as Darrek removes his jacket and his shirt pulls tight over the muscles of his chest. Gabriel starts brushing the pad of his middle finger back and forth over his bottom lip as he studies Darrek, the way he moves, the way he’s dressed, the indescribable smile that lights his face when his friend says something to him.

“Okay, forget the whole fucking-a-client thing....”

“His name is DARREK.”

“I’m ignoring that. Since when do you call clients by their first names?”

“How about we talk about the
other
issue we have here?” Gabriel frowns.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

“Just don’t....”

“I know, not a word to your
precious
. I’ll be... subtle.”

“Knox! ...
Christ
,” he curses, slipping down even lower in the booth as Ben stands and walks up to the bar with a cat-like, intent grin on his face.

Ben grabs a napkin and scribbles a few words on it. Then he folds it twice and hands it to the waitress with a five-dollar bill. After a minute of hushed conversation, she makes a beeline over to the small table by the front window, where two newcomers are sitting.

She hands the shorter, blond one the napkin. After a few words she leaves them. The blond flounders for a minute then excuses himself.

Ben has disappeared, but Gabriel knows right where he is. Sighing with exhaustion and cringing at the tight knot of anxiety in his chest, he watches Darrek flip through the small menu of drinks and snacks. The multicolored lights—pinks, blues and greens—refract and reflect from the neon and glass, illuminating his face and hair. It plays across the hard lines and angles of his brow, cheekbones and jaw, the soft curl of his hair. Transfixed, Gabriel’s hand slips beneath the table and he palms his swelling cock as he remembers their one glorious encounter just two days earlier.

He should go over there. He should say something instead of hiding in the booth and choking on his nerves like one of his clients. But he doesn’t.

Trying to be content with the view and the memories, wishing he could just go over there like a normal person, Gabriel curses and drinks his beer.

The rear door to the bar creaks loudly open. Kyle Roth steps through it then lets it swing shut again. Ben crooks a finger, beckoning him.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” he sings.

Kyle squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep, steadying breath and walks over to him, letting Ben guide him back against the brick wall with gentle pressure from fingertips pressing at his chest.

“Good kitty,” he smiles. “Pants. Now.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he sputters.

Kyle unfastens his jeans as quickly as he can and pushes them down slightly on his hips, letting his hands fall away once he’s finished.

Pushing his hand inside and wrapping it around Kyle’s fully erect cock, Ben starts to stroke him slowly. He knows from years of experience how Kyle likes it.

“Good. Now. What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?”

“No, Master. I swear, we were just going out, and our job site is near here, that new bank that’s going up on Broad and Market...” Kyle sputters then groans as Ben squeezes tighter.

“Okay, let’s pretend I believe that. I saw you sitting in there with someone. That your new boyfriend?”

“Darrek? No way! He’s a friend, he...
oh fuck
, that feels good....”

“But he makes you hard... or is all this for me?” Ben teases, jacking him rough and fast.