Level Hands: Bend or Break, Book 4 (28 page)

“I want everything. Definitely.”

“Great. Heart attack, here we come.” Denny shook his head and slid the fried onions on top of the warm mangú, setting the pan back down and sliding slices of cheese and salami in to fry in the juices.

Mari was the best.

“She also said she didn’t care if my parents owned a stable, I better not leave her kitchen looking like I was raised in it.” Denny looked up at him through the bangs that were hanging in his face. “So, you know, you’re in charge of cleanup.”

Mari was a pain in his ass.

“Um, yeah. Sorry. I might have mentioned your dad’s horses to her.” He still thought it was weird that he knew someone whose family owned horses. Like, a lot of them, and only for fun. A hobby for the weekends, Denny had told him once, long ago. He grabbed the plates when Denny used the spatula to transfer the browned cheese and salami to each one in even portions. “So, you going all Dominican on me now?”

“It’s kind of cool, you know? You have all this awesome stuff, like the food and the music. The dancing.” The look Denny shot him as he sat kitty-corner from Rafi sent heat up Rafi’s spine, making him shiver. “My family doesn’t have anything like that.”

“Sure you do. Quilts and fudge.” He started shoveling food into his mouth, because it turned out he was starving and his stomach was about ready to crawl up out of his throat and go in search of food if he didn’t eat immediately.

“Quilts and fudge is not a cultural heritage.”

“Sure it is. It’s New England white people heritage. Like—” He tried to think of other things, but it was harder than he expected. “Clam chowder! Like clam chowder and, and country clubs. And classical music.”

A withering stare was shot in his direction. “Classical music isn’t from New England.”

Rafi rolled his eyes. “Close enough.”

“Anyway, that’s all stuff that everyone has growing up.” On the inside, Rafi shook his head at the things that could still come out of Denny’s mouth sometimes, but he nodded and kept eating. “It’s not, like, cultural heritage. Not stuff that you make a point to include in your life so you have a connection to where your family comes from. I don’t have that.”

“Yeah, you do. You’ve got, you know…what are you anyway?” Rafi wasn’t sure he’d ever actually asked a white person that before.

“WASP,” Denny answered dryly. Rafi didn’t actually remember what the word stood for, but he knew it meant white people who’d been here for a long time. “Mostly English, I think. Probably a little Irish mixed in for scandal.”

“Well, there you go. Fish and chips. Guinness. Uh, the urge to colonize? And how can you not know where your people come from?”

Denny shrugged and reached for his phone where it sat next to them on the table. “Good question. It’s one of those things we don’t talk about much. But I can ask.”

Apparently “seize the moment” was the order of the morning.

“Hey, Mom, quick question. Are we really just English? Like, the family heritage.” It didn’t slip by Rafi that Denny didn’t mention anything about having flown to Chicago, despite the charge that Rafi assumed was going to show up on Denny’s parents’ credit card eventually. Not his problem. Rafi gathered their empty plates and checked the time. Not bad. He wanted to be at the hospital within the hour, but it was only fifteen minutes away. Plenty of time. “No shit? Sorry. No way, that’s cool. Thanks. Say hi to Dad.”

It still weirded Rafi out that Denny never said
I love you
to either of his parents when he got off the phone with them. Rafi might not always say it to his sisters, but no way did he ever end a call to his mami without them exchanging the words. Maybe if you saw your parents more than once every five years, it wasn’t as important to say it, but that didn’t feel right to him either.

“Turns out I have a great-grandmother who ran away with a Frenchman, so there’s that.”

Denny came over and leaned against the end of the counter as Rafi washed the dishes in the sink. He offered to dry, but Rafi waved him off. The dishes could drip in the drain board. Meanwhile, Rafi tried to come up with something encouraging. “Excellent. Think of all the food and music and…French films you can enjoy now.”

Denny raised an eyebrow, clearly less than impressed.

“Gérard Depardieu pees on airplanes. That’s French.” Okay, so Rafi’s list of fabulous French things was pretty limited.

The speculative gleam that hit Denny’s gaze was an alert that trouble was here. The steps he took over to Rafi were almost slinky. The glide of his hand from Rafi’s waist up his chest and around his neck was extremely clear in intent. Denny leaned in close and spoke, keeping his voice low and teasing. “You know what else is French?”

Rafi knew they should be talking. Really talking. But Denny’s mouth under his was eager, open. The thrust of his tongue was as direct as an invitation. Denny slid his hands down Rafi’s back and pushed them into his pants, curling his long fingers around the curve of Rafi’s butt.

Yup. That was an invitation all right.

Rafi scooped Denny up under his muscled thighs, giving him a bump with his hips until Denny hopped up on the counter and wrapped his legs around Rafi’s waist, smiling. The two of them, both big, built men, must have looked ridiculous, but he didn’t care. He pressed in and opened his mouth to Denny like his life depended on sharing his next breath.

They had an hour before he wanted to be back at the hospital, and an empty apartment. Rafi knew exactly how he wanted to use both of those things.

When they were hard and panting, Rafi pulled away from the kiss. He leaned his face against Denny’s good shoulder for a moment, the bare skin warm under his cheek. Then Denny let his legs drop as Rafi stepped back and urged him off the counter again. He grabbed Denny’s hand and led him back to the bedroom, where he pushed Denny gently to strip and lay himself down on the bed so Rafi could get naked and snuggle up behind him.

“Hang on. Condom,” Denny whispered.

Rafi didn’t want to move, pressed against Denny’s back, draped around him as they lay on their sides—Denny’s good shoulder beneath him—until as much of his skin touched Denny’s as possible. Rafi’s dick rode the crack of Denny’s ass, rubbing against powerful muscle, slick enough to glide but not nearly enough for fucking.

Lube and a condom. Just get ’em, idiot. He’s not going to run away.

Which was more truth-telling about his fears inside his own skull than Rafi really wanted at this very moment.

He’d spent most of the school year so far pushing Denny away from him. Maybe he wasn’t entirely sure, if the sexual tension of the mood eased for even one minute, that Denny wouldn’t decide to up and sprint back to Massachusetts instead.

Which sounded like a piss-poor frame of mind to be in when he was naked with someone he wanted to paint with his tongue.

Rafi sank his teeth into Denny’s shoulder. That same spot he couldn’t stop biting, because Denny shivered every time. Rafi had noticed Denny touching his neck, unconsciously pressing against the skin even after the bruises faded.

Just get the stuff.
He prepared to roll over to the nightstand—or shit, get out of bed and find his bag, because his sisters barely left his crap alone when he lived here, so he hadn’t left anything behind when he’d left for Carlisle—when Denny spoke up.

“When were you last tested?” he asked, his voice low.

Everything stilled.

“Right before I left for Carlisle.” Rafi remembered the trip to the clinic and snorted, trying not to think about why Denny was asking him this. “Cash insisted I needed to go off with a clean slate. Why?”

Denny ignored the question for another of his own. “Slept with anyone since?”

Sheet lightning flashed over Rafi’s body and his arm tightened about Denny. His words were gruff. “Only you.”

“I’ve slept with people since Drew, but no one other than you in the past six months.” Denny paused, but Rafi knew better than to ask. Denny had been at Carlisle an entire year before Rafi got there. He was lucky Denny was even letting him know that there hadn’t been anyone else since he’d learned that Rafi was definitely coming to campus. “We always used condoms and I’m still on PrEP.”

Every time Rafi inhaled, the sweaty skin of his belly pulled away from Denny’s lower back long enough for the room’s cool air to sneak in. A chill stroke of a ghostly breeze against his skin.

“You can fuck me without. If you want. Just lube. Which I put under the pillow last night when you were still in the bathroom.”

Denny put his head down on the crook of his arm, moving his top leg forward to open himself up to Rafi, and then waited.

Rafi trailed his fingers down Denny’s side, counting ribs and soothing the twitches of his skin. He didn’t have to see Denny’s face to know what it looked like. The barely there arch of his light brown eyebrows. The way he pushed his lips out a bit when thinking hard. How pink his mouth could get when he bit at those lips, like Rafi knew he would be doing right now.

He pushed his face against Denny’s neck, opening his mouth against skin that still smelled like sleep and the scent of food from the kitchen. He wanted to eat this man up. Suck him and lick him and trace every inch of Denny’s body with his mouth, until he’d taken the taste of him so far deep inside himself it would never come out.

Denny shifted his legs again and pushed back with his butt, as if ready to pretzel himself into whatever position would get the rub of Rafi’s dick where he wanted it. Rafi lifted his mouth and blew air across the wet skin he’d licked until Denny’s skin pebbled up in goose bumps.

“I can feel you looking at me,” Denny said, and the rumble of the words vibrated through his chest.

Rafi drew a fingertip from Denny’s nape all the way down his spine, so slowly, until he was pressing against the entrance to his body. Tension hummed in Denny’s muscles as Rafi rubbed circles against him until he softened, relaxing against Rafi from head to toe.

“Easy,” he murmured.

Denny huffed a breath. “It is not. It’s like you’re dangling me over the edge of a cliff here.”

Rafi smiled into Denny’s hair, then slid his hand up and under the pillow until he found the lube. Cold and wet on his fingers as he fumbled with one hand, the other one wrapped under Denny. He took his time, working slowly at opening Denny up. He didn’t want to hurt this man again.

“So good,” Denny moaned and tilted his head back, arching his spine and pushing back even harder on Rafi’s fingers. “Fuuuuuck me. This is way better.”

Rafi stilled. “Way better than who?” He couldn’t quite keep the sharpness out of his voice.

“What,” Denny said, not asking a question.

“This is way better than who?” Rafi was.

“No, I meant, what. This is way better than what.” Jesus Christ. They were a gay porn Abbott and Costello routine. Denny gigglesnorted into the pillow, and then gasped when Rafi smacked his ass.

Attention on me
, the sting of that light slap said, loud and clear.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Rafi demanded.

“This.” Denny wiggled his ass and groaned as Rafi crooked his fingers reflexively. “Feels way better than what I’ve had up there lately. Not who.”

“Got it.” He exhaled and started again with the slow stroking that had been driving Denny to nonstop squirming. “What do you use?”

“Just, unh.”

Ooh, that was the good spot. Rafi memorized that. “Just what?”

“Are you…seriously going to quiz me, unh, right now?” Denny whined, twisting against him. Rafi pulled out for more lube and then pushed back in with two fingers while Denny complained, and then groaned again.

“I want to picture it.” God, he couldn’t think of anything hotter than picturing Denny getting himself off.
Please let him do it thinking of me.
He burned for that, would make Denny do it for him. In front of him. The idea was enough to make Rafi so hard he shuddered.

“I have a plug.” Denny pushed his face into the pillow. He wouldn’t look Rafi in the face and talk about this while getting fingered. The shyness almost killed Rafi. “But I like the dildo better.”

“I want to watch that.” Rafi found his favorite spot again and stroked.

With a loud cry, Denny arched his back and reached for his dick. Rafi slapped his hand away, forgetting to be gentle. He wanted to torture Denny some more with words.

“Can you picture it? What you look like right now? Trying to fuck yourself on my fingers. I’m watching them push inside you, picturing my dick there when you’re ready.”

“Stop talking. Ready now.” Denny panted out the words between harsh breaths.

Rafi aimed to please. He pulled his fingers out of Denny’s ass, and the tube of lube made a fart noise when he squeezed it that had Denny laughing again and apologizing for the silliness. Then Rafi was pushing into him and he wasn’t laughing at all.

Oh God, it was different. So different, feeling skin on skin, and Rafi was so fucking lucky he’d never done this before with anyone, because he wouldn’t have been able to stop. He got it, pulling back an inch before pushing a little bit farther. He understood why guys who fucked bare didn’t want to give it up. Why PrEP could be dangerous to a guy’s decision-making process, because right now he didn’t ever want to fuck Denny wearing a condom. Never.

Denny had shoved back reflexively at the first push of Rafi’s dick against him. But his body was shaking now, and when Rafi laid a palm between his shoulder blades and whispered, “Easy,” Denny went limp in front of him with a sigh. Rafi arranged their arms and legs, taking care not to put pressure on Denny’s shoulder.

Denny’s whole body shivered when Rafi wrapped his fist around Denny’s dick as he pushed forward again, holding tight as Denny vibrated with the strain of taking Rafi in until Rafi’s thighs pressed against the back of Denny’s legs.

Rafi held still for a minute, wallowing in the heat that swallowed him from tip to balls, the tight grip of Denny’s body making him light-headed. When he moved, oh so slowly, at last, he was ready to turn off his brain and drop deep into the rhythm of sex. But Denny’s back grew poker stiff at his first withdrawal.