Guys on Top (21 page)

Corey glared at him. “Lie down!”

“Something hurt.”

“It’s okay, Doug. Just lie down.”

Doug took a breath and eased back down. Discomfort returned to his stomach, but it wasn’t sharp as before, more like acid bubbling up inside. The sensation gradually worsened, a burning pain making his mouth water. “Something’s wrong,” Doug said. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He tried to sit up when another sharp pain tightened his gut. “Ah...” He gasped, falling onto his back. “I’m getting bad heartburn.”

Corey’s hands left his stomach and went to Doug’s shoulders, holding him down, his blond hair falling over his eyes. “Try to relax, it’ll be over soon.”

“I don’t feel good,” Doug said. “Let me up.”

“It’s almost over, but I need you to lie still.”

Doug grimaced. “My stomach—”

“I know.” Corey gripped Doug’s shoulders tight. “I’ve brought it to the surface, now I need to pull it out. You have to lie still!”

“You brought...what did you do to me?” Doug gasped, a fireball burning in his gut. “Did you fucking poison me?”

Corey scowled. “No I didn’t poison you, you ass. I can fix it, okay? Just give me one more minute.”

“What’s that shit you rubbed on me?”

“It’s just almond oil, Doug.” He reached up and stroked his palm across Doug’s brow. “Relax. Please?
Please
.”

Doug breathed in and out, struggling to calm himself. Corey looked down at him expectantly. Gritting his teeth, he nodded. “Okay. Finish. Before I puke on you.”

Corey’s hands immediately went back to his gut. He placed them gently on Doug’s skin, then slowly began to swirl them in a circle, wide at first, then narrowing until it was just his fingers pressing down in the center of his abdomen.

Going completely still for several seconds, Corey took an audible breath. He applied more pressure. “Okay,” he whispered. “Come to Daddy.”

Gradually, the burning pain lessened, a cooling sensation moving through Doug’s stomach, spreading out over his chest, then down his arms.

“
Here
it comes,” Corey said softly. “Gotcha.”

Then the pain was gone.

Corey abruptly removed his hands.

Doug blinked and looked up at him. “What just happened?”

Corey wiped his hands on a towel, then gave Doug’s thigh a double slap. “That’s it, tough guy. You’re done.”

Chapter Fifteen

“So then what happened?” Jairo asked.

“Then I got the fuck out of there,” Doug said.

They sat at a table by the stage, waiting for Jairo’s friend’s band to come on. Jairo’s other pals hadn’t shown up yet, and Doug was grateful. It gave him a chance to talk about his disturbing massage. He knew Jairo probably didn’t want to hear anything about Corey, but Doug needed to tell
someone
.

Jairo shrugged, scratching his goatee. “There’s a simple explanation.”

Doug huffed. “Yeah. That Corey’s a fucking warlock or something.”

Jairo burst out laughing, white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. “He’s not a warlock.”

“A wizard, then,” Doug said.

Jairo cocked an eyebrow at Doug. “Again, no. Though he does have a nice wand. What happened to you was medical, not mystical.”

Doug pointed a finger in Jairo’s face. “
You
said he had magical hands.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “After you slept with him!”

“I didn’t mean it literally, Doug, Jesus! The guy knows his way around the human body. He’s great in bed. But believe me, nothing felt bad, or made me want to puke. And the only thing that came out of me was—”

“Ah, stop. Okay. Then what do you think he did to me?”

“Doug, listen.” Jairo took a sip of beer then set it down. “You said you went up there because you thought Corey was mad at you. You’ve been in this complex situation with him and Stewart. And you were nervous about getting a boner during the massage. All of that made you anxious. Extreme anxiety releases epinephrine, and that causes the stomach to produce extra acid.”

Doug frowned. “Really?”

Jairo nodded.

“Corey acted like he expected it. Like it was all part of his plan.”

“Corey’s a fucking nut job. You said so yourself.”

“I know, but...” Doug shuddered. “It was
weird
.”

“You think that’s weird, you should see the poster on his closet door.” Jairo turned abruptly and grinned as three people approached the table. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, give me hugs!” squealed a tall, curvy black woman.

Jairo stood and they embraced, then he moved on to the two standing behind her, a cute, skinny blonde girl and an even cuter guy. Jairo hugged the girl then did some slappy handshake thing with the guy. “Sit down, you guys. This is Doug.”

Jairo went around the table and made introductions. The black woman was called Isla, and she was a nurse like Jairo. She had beautiful, hypnotic eyes with dramatic green shadow beneath her brows. The petite blonde was Madison, a lab technician and Isla’s best friend. And then there was Rodney.

Rodney, who Doug found instantly attractive, worked in a coffee bar and was studying to get his MBA. He had pouty lips and dark blond hair cut very short, probably because it had a curl, the kind of hair that would likely grow outward instead of down if he neglected it. Rodney had taken the seat next to Doug, which pleased him, though he couldn’t determine yet if the guy was gay or straight.

“When is Scoot coming on?” Rodney asked Jairo.

“They should be out soon,” Jairo said, checking his watch. “You guys wanna go grab drinks? We’ll save your seats.”

“Drinks, yes,” Rodney said.

Isla clapped. “Yay, drinks!” She looked at Doug. “Sorry, I have a three-year-old, I don’t get out much.”

Doug laughed. “I get it, my brother has a two-year-old. He goes a bit off the rails when he gets a night off.”

The three of them got up, and Rodney looked down at Doug. “You need another?” he asked, pointing to Doug’s half full beer.

“Oh, I’m good right now, thanks.”

Rodney gave him a quick smile then headed through the crowd toward the bar with the girls. They were all very giggly and high spirited, and Doug followed them with his eyes.

“Wait till you see this band,” Jairo said. “They’re called Binomial Theorem and they rock. Our friend Scooter is the bass player. You sure you don’t need another beer?”

“No, I’m good,” Doug said.

“You look fucking hot tonight by the way,” Jairo said. “I like what you’re wearing.”

“Oh, thanks,” Doug said. “I actually tried.” He’d worn a pair of the dark jeans he’d bought that day, with a golden brown button down shirt that skimmed his physique.

“Well it looks good,” Jairo said.  “I approve.”

“Thanks. Your friends seem nice.”

Jairo grinned at him. “They’re the best. Rod is single, by the way.”

Doug tried to look indifferent. “Oh. Is he, uh, gay?”

Jairo’s head fell back, laughter pealing out of him. He looked at Doug. “Yeah, he is, uh, gay. And I know you’re interested. I’ve seen that gleam in your eye before. The last time we were here.”

Doug smirked at Jairo, but the allusion to Stewart sunk his mood a bit. But before he could begin to wallow, lights came on over the stage and the band trailed out onto it, applause following with hoots and hollers from the crowd.

“Oh good, you’re gonna love this,” Jairo said, turning his attention to the band. “Scoot!” he hollered, and the bass player looked over and gave him a wave. “That’s Scoot,” Jairo said to Doug.

“Yeah, got that.” Doug was already grinning. The band members were a sight, each of them dressed in short sleeved, checkered shirts buttoned up to their necks, thick black glasses, and deliberately greased up hair. The singer, who fiddled with the microphone stand, wore a pocket protector. His brown polyester slacks rode high on his calves, with black socks and loafers.

“Aren’t they a trip?” Jairo asked.

“Yeah,” Doug said. “They all look like captain of the math team.”

The band started up with a funky beat just as Rodney, Isla and Madison returned to the table with drinks.

Rodney set his glass down then whistled through his fingers at the band. He took his seat, grinning. Doug smiled at him, then focused on the band.

Binomial Theorem did, in fact, rock. Along with the bass and drums there were two guitars and a saxophone, their sound a jumpy mix of blues and funk, the singer’s voice a throwback to punk rock. Soon the floor in front of the stage filled up with dancers.

Doug laughed, watching the decidedly nerdy rhythm guitarist flail his body around like a stringed puppet as he played.

“You like the band?” Rodney asked, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

“Yeah,” Doug said, leaning in. “They’re great.”

“Dance with me!” Isla said, dragging Jairo from his seat. The two bounced out on the dance floor together.

Madison tapped Doug’s hand across the table. “You want to dance?”

Doug grinned, shaking his head. “No, thank you.”

She made a mock frown, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder. “Sure?”

He nodded. “You don’t want to see me dance, trust me.”

She turned to Rodney. “Rod?”

“I will, Maddie, I promise,” Rodney said. “Let me get a drink in me first.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, then shimmied out onto the dance floor to join Jairo and Isla, who thrashed around with great enthusiasm.

“You don’t dance?” Rodney asked, leaning closer to Doug. He had a great smile and pretty brown eyes.

“I do not,” Doug said.

“Not even with me?”

Doug stared back at Rodney, then smiled. “Ask me to do anything else. I’m not joking when I say I would literally sit here and punch myself in the face before ever stepping on that dance floor.”

Rodney laughed heartily. “Well, how ’bout you give me your phone number? We could get together and do something other than dance sometime.”

 “All right, sounds good.” Doug took his phone out, and Rodney did the same. They exchanged numbers, their bodies close, heads nearly touching as they tried to hear each other over the music.

“Where do you live?” Rodney asked.

“Down by the pond.”

“Oh, nice, I love it down there.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s nice.”

“I live in Brighton,” Rodney said.

Doug nodded. “Oh.”

Doug felt pretty comfortable, but he was also stumped for anything interesting to say to this guy, and didn’t want to come off as a bore. Noting his empty beer glass, he decided a bit more liquid courage might take the edge off. “You need anything, Rodney? I’m gonna go get a beer.”

“No, thanks,” he said. “But call me Rod. My mother’s really the only one who calls me Rodney. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble every time I hear it.” He laughed, giving Doug’s shoulder a nudge.

Doug held his eyes, tingles of attraction fluttering through him. The moment was interrupted when Madison came back to the table and yanked Rod out of the chair. He smiled over his shoulder at Doug as she dragged him out on the dance floor.

Doug stood and watched them dance for a moment, admiring the movements of Rod’s body. Cute guy. Seemed nice enough. He didn’t give Doug that punched in the gut, lose his breath feeling, but there was potential there.

He went up to the bar and had to wait behind a few people ordering drinks. The place was packed tonight, and he was thankful he’d put on extra deodorant so he didn’t start to sweat through his nice new shirt. He let his eyes roam the crowd while he waited his turn. And that’s when he spotted Stewart, sitting with a guy he didn’t recognize at a table in the far corner of the room.

Just the sight of him made Doug’s body grow warm. It looked like he’d gotten his hair trimmed, his wavy dark locks a bit neater, framing his face. He wore a midnight blue tee shirt the color of his eyes, strong white arms resting on the table before him. The man who sat beside him huddled close, eyes on Stewart as he listened to him talk. Doug didn’t like the guy’s looks. He was a pile of swollen muscles with blond hair cut military style, and he was looking at Stewart like he wanted to eat him for dinner.

The crowd parted in front of Doug and he reluctantly tore his eyes from Stewart and approached the bar, leaning against it while he waited for the bartender to finish with another customer. He resisted the urge to glance back at Stewart, his mood already shattering from the sight of him with another guy.

“What can I get you?”

Doug smiled at the bartender and ordered a second beer. He waited, drumming his fingers on the bar. Letting this ruin his night would defeat the whole purpose of going out. He determined he’d try to forget Stewart was even here, and focus on the people he was with. Particularly Rod, who’d already asked for his number.

The bartender set his beer down, and Doug had just handed over his money when he felt someone sidle up next to him. He turned to see Stewart standing very close, smiling. “Hey,” Stewart said. “Come here often?”

Doug grinned widely, unable to help himself, Stewart’s presence already making his throat tighten, that rush of intensity coursing through his body. If Rod had given him tingles of attraction, Stewart was like a high voltage electric shock by comparison. “Hey,” he said. “You been here long?”

 Stewart moved even closer, their knees touching. “Long enough. Who’s the dude?”

Doug shook his head. “What
dude
?”

“You know.” Stewart leaned in, his spicy aroma filling Doug’s senses. “Justin Timberlake out there on the dance floor. The one I saw slobbering all over you.”

“Ah.” Doug chuckled. “You already spotted me, then.”

“From the moment you walked in.”

“Well, that’s Rod. Friend of Jairo’s.”

Stewart’s eyebrows rose, a smirk dimpling his cheeks. “His name is
Rod
? You’re kidding, right?”

Doug tried to scowl, but Stewart’s grin was contagious as always. “You’re not really about to make a dick joke, are you?”

“Of course not! Such things are beneath me.”

“Of course,” Doug said.

Stewart snickered. “But this Rod, does he get struck by lightning a lot?”