Guys on Top (2 page)

But it wasn’t
all
about spite. Doug was horny. Not the kind of horny that could be solved with masturbation, but deep down, as though his very soul needed an orgasm. And he welcomed the feeling, his mind and body urging him to get back in the game. Harry’s betrayal, the accident, the lawsuit, it had all sucked his passion dry, and for a while there, he couldn’t have gotten it up if his life depended on it. All he’d had was his rage. But now, something else burned in him, bubbling up and demanding release. For the first time in ages, he was hopeful about the future. 

He was hardly looking for love, he’d been down that road and it had ended disastrously. But he hungered for
something
. His need for another body was overpowering, to touch and be touched, the heat of foreign breath on his lips and the scent of masculine sweat on his sheets.

“You like it?” Anna asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“I do,” he said.  “Very much.”

“It’s a wonderful neighborhood. It was fortunate, as I said, Dr. Crandall and I just started chatting during my exam, and I mentioned I was trying to get one of my apartments rented,” Anna said.

His brother ran an obstetrics and gynecology clinic in town, so Doug was graced with an unwelcome mental image of Anna, prone on a table with her feet up in stirrups, discussing real estate while Wyatt gave her a pap smear.

“Yeah, fortunate,” Doug agreed. “I’ve been looking for a place, but no luck so far.”

 “Yes, your brother told me you’ve had a rough time of things.” Her smile wilted, blue eyes drooping in sympathy.

A flare of annoyance heated Doug’s cheeks, and he wondered how much his brother had told this stranger about his situation and his past. But he took a deep breath and tampered it down, his practiced anger-coping skills kicking in effectively, if not sluggishly.

Family
, he thought. You could bitch and moan about their meddling, but when your shoes finally hit rock bottom, they were the only people you could dare ask to help pull you out. Problem was, they then felt entitled to try and fix your life, and since you’d clearly fucked it up on your own, it was difficult to argue.

Wyatt and his wife, Beth, had taken Doug in when he was at the lowest point in his life, and helped him get back on his feet. And with a toddler to contend with, they hardly needed another dependent in the house, especially a twenty-eight year old. So he was willing to cut his brother slack when it came to his meddling. Especially since it had led to finding this great apartment, he hoped.

“Well, I love the place,” Doug said, hoping to move on to closing the deal.

Anna turned and smiled up at him. “Good, I’m so pleased. Well, as I said, your paperwork is all fine, and there’s no better reference than Dr. Crandall. So the apartment is yours if you want it. When can you move in?”

Doug beamed. “As soon as possible.”

She patted his arm. “Then I’ll get you your key.”

“Great,” Doug said, following her back inside.

“You are gay, you said, right?” she asked as they moved toward the kitchen.

Doug rolled his eyes behind her back. “Yes. Really. Quite gay.”

“Good, good. I do prefer renting to gays. They make good tenants. Nice and quiet.”

Doug signed the lease and gave Anna a check. Then, with keys in hand, he exited what would soon be his new home. His brother Wyatt and a friend had already agreed to help him move, and he was looking forward to getting his furniture and stuff out of storage, excited to see it all again, to feel whole.

As he was leaving the foyer through the main front door, he heard a strange, masculine howl from somewhere up above. Pausing, he glanced up the set of wooden steps that led to the second floor apartment. He waited, but heard nothing further.

The sound forgotten, he left the house and trotted down the front porch steps, eager to call his brother and tell him the good news.

Chapter Two

Nice and quiet.

Anna the landlord’s words taunted Doug as he hugged his pillow around his ears, struggling in vain to block out the party sounds coming from above. He sat up and grabbed his phone off the bedside table, checked the time, then slammed it back down. Falling back into the mattress, he glared up at the ceiling.

Five nights. He’d been in the apartment for five nights, and for five nights he’d barely slept. He was thankful he’d taken the week off to move and unpack, but dreaded what next week would bring when he had to return to work. Sleep, like his exercise and meditation, was crucial to maintaining his calm. But since moving into the apartment, he’d not had even close to a full night’s slumber.

It generally started around nine at night, sometimes a bit later: the trampling of feet going up the stairs to the second floor. The knocking as new people arrived. The music. Oh God, the music—usually played at an obscene volume.

The voices.

The laughter.

One laugh in particular, a shrill, male cackle, was becoming so familiarly annoying that Doug swore he’d punch the owner of it should they ever meet.

No. Control your anger. Count to ten. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Early in the evening he could handle it, his iPod ear buds wedged into his ears as he continued to clean and unpack. But he’d never been able to sleep with music playing, he needed silence. The noise was the worst in his bedroom, the ancient radiator acting as a conduit for sound, voices channeled down the pipes as though through a muffled megaphone. And the noises didn’t end once the party guests finally left at an ungodly hour. No, then came the sex.

Moans, groans, bedsprings squeaking. Terms of endearment, along with words not quite so sweet, bayed in guttural abandon at the moment of orgasm.

Sometimes the sex sounds came before the guests left, while the gathering still raged, as though someone had sneaked off for a quickie behind the bedroom’s locked door, their lust-filled grunts camouflaged by the music and drunken voices—camouflaged by everyone but Doug, lying in his bed one floor below.   

 He suddenly heard the door open at the top of the exit stairs and a muffle of goodnights and salutations, then the familiar trample of feet as they descended down to the foyer. The heavy front door opened and slammed shut as they left. Doug breathed a sigh of relief. He could still get a few hours in before his morning run. Turning onto his side, he pulled the sheet up and hugged his pillow, scowling as he willed unconsciousness to come.

He tried to ignore the voices he still heard, drifting through the radiator into his room. There were fewer of them now, though he couldn’t tell how many. 

Oh please, please be too tired for sex
, he thought, trying to mentally beam the idea up through the ceiling and into his neighbors’ minds.

He hadn’t even met his upstairs neighbors yet, but was already far too intimate with the bedroom habits of at least one of them, whoever occupied the room above his. Last night he’d been privy to one man asking another to suck his cock, which might have been easier to stomach had Doug not then
heard
the sounds of the act being performed.

Doug loved sex as much as the next guy, but being subjected to an audio track of someone else’s nightly intimacy was grating, especially in his sleep deprived state.

 The voices above gained volume, and when he heard what sounded like the beginnings of an argument, he gave up, and with his pillow and blanket, retreated to the spare room.

His weight bench and punching bag took up most of the space, but he was now thankful he’d put the old sofa against the wall. It was coming in handy. There was no radiator in this room, and it was distanced far enough from the other side of the house to be virtually silent. Curling up on the couch, cocooned in his blanket, he drifted quickly off to sleep.
      When he was awakened by the doorbell, sunshine was streaming through the windows. Doug sat up, groaning as he stretched his back, splinters of pain shooting through one arm. He climbed off the sofa and stumbled out of the spare room, bare feet padding the hardwood floor as he approached the door. He started to reach for the knob then stopped, looking down at himself. He wore boxer shorts and nothing else. He turned the knob and stepped hesitantly into the foyer, peering at the closed front door.

“Who is it?”

“Dougy, it’s me,” his brother’s familiar voice said.

Doug unlocked the door and opened it. His brother Wyatt held a large cardboard box in both arms. “Morning! I brought the last of your stuff.”

“Thanks,” Doug said, waving him in. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes, yawning as he led his brother into his apartment.

Wyatt stepped inside and set the box down, then looked around at the living room. “Wow! You’re all unpacked. It looks awesome.” He glanced at Doug, noting his attire. “Did I wake you up? I figured you’d already be back from your run.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after nine.”

“Shit,” Doug said, weaving over to sit on his puffy sofa.

His brother sat down on the other end. “You all right?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Wyatt raised his eyebrows. They both had the same light brown hair, though Doug noted that his big brother’s hairline was receding somewhat. While they had similar looks, Wyatt’s face was narrower, his body leaner. He was a runner like Doug, but had no interest in lifting weights or bulking up. He said picking up his baby daughter was enough of a workout for him. They also shared the same large, heavily lashed brown eyes, though Wyatt’s peered through the wire framed glasses he always wore, making them look larger still. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked.

Doug gave him a drowsy account of the nightly parties upstairs, coming more awake as he went on, anger beginning to tap his temples with the retelling of it. “It’s insane,” he said. “I feel like I’m back in college. Every night, man. These pricks have no consideration. It’s making me nuts.”

Wyatt scowled, and Doug almost regretted telling him about the neighbors. His brother’s constant worry was both endearing and annoying. He knew it was only because Wyatt cared about him, and had therefore made it his mission to make sure Doug didn’t get stressed out again. But he was beginning to resent that look in his brother’s eyes, like Doug was a piece of delicate china, ready to shatter at any moment. “I’m fine, Wyatt, stop looking at me like that.”

“What? How am I looking at you?”

“Like you’re worried I’m gonna flip out and punch them or something.”

Wyatt laughed. “I wasn’t thinking that. I was thinking you should call Anna and tell her.”

Doug waved a hand at him. “I’m not calling the landlord on them.”

“Then go up there and talk to them, ask them to keep it down at night. You have to live here, Dougy, this is your home. You can’t deal with that every night.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m hoping it will just stop so I don’t have to confront anyone.”

Wyatt shook his head. “I’m telling you, I think you should call Anna. Have her talk to them.”

Doug rubbed his eyes then stood, scratching one butt cheek. “Do you want coffee? I need coffee.”

“Actually, I have to go.” Wyatt stood. “I’m off work and we’re taking Mandy to the zoo today. I wanted to drop off the rest of your stuff and invite you to dinner tonight at the house.”

Doug grinned, raising his eyebrows. “Dinner? I figured you’d be so glad to have me out of your house I’d be banned for a while.”

Wyatt laughed. “Beth’s idea. She pointed out that you might not have had time to go shopping, and could probably use a nice meal. Unless you have plans. It is Friday, after all.”

“No, no plans. I haven’t quite gotten around to acquiring a life yet.”

“Good, you can make it then. Come on by around seven, I might invite a couple more people, make it an official dinner party.”

“Okay, sounds good. Sadly, I think I could use a night out of the house. Even though I just got here.”

“Well, the place looks great,” Wyatt said, giving him a quick hug and shoulder slap. “I’m glad you’re so close by, we’ll have to go for a run together one of these mornings.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later on. And thanks again. For finding me this place.”

“I’m just glad it worked out.” Wyatt paused as he opened the door. “I hope your neighbors shut up so you can get some sleep. I don’t like seeing you pissed off.”

“I’m fine, Wyatt. Really. I’ll deal with it.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll deal with it. Go on. Stop worrying about me.”

“Okay.” He laughed, raising his hands. “I’ll back off. See you tonight,” he said, then left, closing the door.

Doug made coffee, then moved to his bedroom to put on his running clothes. The dreaded radiator was now silent. Apparently the upstairs revelers slept late, or had already left for work. He peeked out the back window, pulling the shade aside. The vintage sports car was in the garage, and now a large blue van sat parked behind it. Sleeping in, then. He had a good mind to blast the stereo at peak volume to wake them.

Yeah, I
really
need a run
. He desperately required endorphins to calm his nerves, and give him that warm, happy feeling. 

He got dressed and left the house. It was a gorgeous spring morning, the air crisp and sweet. The houses along his street all had neatly manicured lawns with lots of flowering shrubs, making the walk down to the pond serene and calming, birds chattering in the trees. He had a beautiful apartment, lived on a beautiful street, and he didn’t want to give that up. He’d find a way to make it work with the neighbors, somehow.

Crossing the parkway, he made his way down to the pond. He started his jog, already feeling refreshed and less angry about his lack of sleep. It was difficult to stay irritated as he passed swans gliding across the water, fragrant blossom petals swirling like snow along the tree-lined path.

Though he
was
a bit irritated that he’d slept so late. At five in the morning there were few people down here, but at nine it was already crowded with other joggers and parents pushing strollers. A couple of times he fell into that awkward thing where some other jogger’s pace lined up exactly with his, and he had to either slow down or sprint to avoid running alongside a stranger.