The Queen & the Homo Jock King (64 page)

It didn’t take him much longer after that. One moment I was getting fucked, the next I was on my knees in front of him, the condom lying on the floor next to me. He jerked off above me, his face screwed up like he was in pain. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. The first splash landed on my neck. Then my chin. My cheeks. My hair. He made that little whining noise again and I fought against dashing my tongue out and chasing the taste of him. I’d already gone against my normal procedure and blown him without a condom. I knew he’d have told me if he was carrying anything, but I didn’t want to take the chance.

Besides, this was good enough.

Eventually, he dropped to his knees in front of me. I opened my eyes and grinned at the dazed look on his face, seeing me striped with his come. He moved with slow, jerky movements as he shrugged out of his shirt before bringing it up and wiping my face with it. It still felt tacky and warm by the time he was done, but I could worry about that later.

Because he leaned forward then, kissing me long and deep, and I didn’t think I wanted anything else right at that moment.

There was a sound below us as he leaned his forehead against mine. It took us a minute to understand it for what it was.

Applause.

“I’m questioning my sexuality after that!” Izaac shouted up as other people in the bar started laughing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered.

Darren just grinned.

LATER, HE
lay on his back on an old blanket I’d found tucked away in one of the corners. I was at his side, my chin resting on his chest, staring up at him as I played with his chest hair. His head was pillowed on his arms, and the smug expression was back. I allowed him to have it because, after what we’d just done, he’d earned it.

Someone had put up Christmas lights in the Lair, probably Charlie. They twinkled above us, and it was almost enough to make up for the fact that we were lying on the floor at a gay bar. Almost, but not quite.

Funnily enough, I wasn’t in the mood to complain. A good dicking will do that for you.

His smirk grew wider as I sighed into his chest.

“Stop that,” I said, trying for irritable, but landing somewhere near tender.

“No,” he said easily.

“It’s not a good look on you.”

“Well, apparently I’m a good look on you if my spunk meant—”

“Don’t you even think about finishing that sentence!”

He rolled his eyes.

“You’re thinking it, aren’t you?”

“So, so much,” he said, running a hand over my bare back. His hands felt good on me. I didn’t know why I was so surprised at that.

I sighed. “Fine. You’re allowed this one time to be this way.”

“What way?”

“You
know
what way.”

“Blissful?”

“Is that what you call it?”

He shrugged and pulled me tighter against him. We were quiet for a little while then, each of us lost in our own thoughts. For once, that tight feeling I had whenever I was around him wasn’t there. I thought maybe we were on the same page finally, and I couldn’t wait to see where we went.

“I like this,” he said softly.

“What?”

“You and me.”

“We are pretty good together,” I agreed as I kissed his chest.

“So we’re doing this, then?”

“I think it’s a little late to be asking—”

“Sandy.”

I groaned, because there went my afterglow. It was one thing to
think
about feelings. It was something entirely different to talk about them out loud.

“I’m being serious.” He looked so fucking earnest that I couldn’t even make fun of him for it, what the hell.

“I know,” I said.

“Well?” He shifted so he could get a better look at me. He deposited me next to him, turning over until we were both on our sides facing each other. He let me use his arm as a pillow. His face was so close to mine, and his eyes searched me for something. I wasn’t sure what.

“Well,” I repeated.

He glared at me.
That
was a look I was used to. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” I said, reaching out and running a finger over his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“Everything. The way I acted when we first met. All the shit I put you through after. If only I’d—”

I shushed him with my lips, kissing him sweetly. He sighed into my mouth and took it for what it was. I didn’t need him to apologize anymore.

“You fucked up,” I said as I pulled away. “I fucked up. Then we spent years doing this weird mating dance where you tried to fluff your plumage up to show me your brightly colored feathers while screwing twinks like it was going out of style.”

“That is
not
what happened,” he said, sounding appropriately outraged. “I don’t have fucking
plumage
, what the fuck—”

“It was really rather daunting,” I said. “I don’t think anyone’s ever filmed a Homo Jock King in the wild in the throes of his mating dance.”

He groaned and covered his face with one of his hands. “I already regret everything about this.”

I laughed at him. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“How do you figure?”

I shrugged. “You came on my face. In some cultures, that’s considered a marriage proposal.”

He looked like he was trying desperately to hide how hysterical I was. His lips barely twitched. “Is that right.”

I nodded and poked his nose, because I thought I could do stuff like that now. And the idea of it made me unnecessarily giddy. “That’s right. My family will arrange a meeting to exchange goats for me.”

“I think I’d rather keep the goats.”

“Bastard,” I said. “Goats won’t let you come on them. Or they will, but you’d have to be really fucked up to do something like that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, looking slightly horrified.

“Honestly? I have no idea. I think I’m a little high right now.”

“I did that,” he said.

“Part of it,” I said. “Most of it was me, though. I rocked your world.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Probably. But I can’t remember what it was I was supposed to be deflecting.”

He took my hand in his, entwining our fingers. He brought my hand up and kissed my knuckles and I didn’t dare open my mouth, sure that I would blurt my feelings all over him. It was a scary prospect, especially since I knew there was really no going back for me at this point.

“Are we doing this?” he asked again.

“This,” I repeated.

He scowled at me. “Yes. This.”

“What
is
this?” I asked, curious as to what he thought of us.

His eyes darted away, and I saw the flush creeping up his cheeks. He shrugged. “You know. Like. Just. God.”

I kept a straight face when I said, “Dare, are you asking to go steady?”

He blushed furiously. “Shut up. That’s not—just. Don’t make fun of me about this.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I would even think about it.” Even though I sort of was.

“Uh, yeah. You would.”

“Okay, so I’m an asshole. Whatever. Look. I like you and you like me. We can—”

“Love,” he blurted. “It’s not like, it’s love.” And then he winced. “Ah, fuck.”

I gaped at him.

“Um, let’s forget I said that,” he rushed out, looking extraordinarily panicked. “Let’s go back to the part where you like me and—”

“Holy fucking flaming balls of fire,” I breathed. “You
love
me.”

“That’s not what I meant to say. I wasn’t even talking about that. I was talking about—”

“Like full-on, star-crossed
love
me,” I continued on as if he wasn’t speaking at all. Because, in reality, I could barely even hear him. It was one thing to hear it from his brother, but it was something else entirely to hear it from the Homo Jock King. “How is it possible that I get even more amazing than I already am?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” he muttered, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his hands.

“Who’s the smug one now, bitches!” I crowed.

“I chose this,” he said to no one in particular. “All of my choices have led to this. Why didn’t anyone warn me?”

“When I’m famous and getting interviewed by Ryan Seacrest or Hilary Clinton, they’re going to ask me my thoughts on Syria and the Kardashians, and I’ll tell them you said it first.”

“Why would you be getting interviewed by Hil—you know what? No. I am not even going to ask.”

“When I get my first Academy Award for my portrayal of Meryl Streep in the biographic film
Streep Smarts
, I’m going to thank God, Meryl Streep, and then my bae who told me he loved me first.”

Darren groaned. But I saw through it now. While one thought that it might have been a sound of disdain and derision, I knew it for what it truly was.

“You don’t need to do your mating call anymore,” I told him. “I already accept.”

“Mating call,” he muttered, and I debated getting my mouth on his nipples again.

“You mounted me in a show of dominance,” I said with a shrug, “after completing your mating dance. If we were yaks, it’d be clear.”

“Yaks,” he said. “Is this a regular occurrence after sex with you? Just so I know for the future.”

“Nah,” I said easily. “This happens after my boyfriend says he loves me.”

“Right,” he said dryly. “And we all know that—wait.”

I waited, but because I wanted to. Not because he told me to.

He turned back over until we were face to face. “You just called me your boyfriend.” He sounded nervous and shy all at the same time. It was a deadly combination that legit made me want to stare into his eyes lovingly or maybe lick his balls.

I tried to play it cool because apparently we were fourteen-year-old girls. “I did.” So cool. Like ice.

“I’m your boyfriend,” he said, and I didn’t think I’d ever heard anyone sound that much in awe of me before. It was a heady feeling.

But, given that I thought it only fair he be warned what he was getting into, I said, “I’m demanding. In that I demand everything go exactly how I want it to.”

“We’re dating,” he said, like he hadn’t heard me at all.

“I have very expensive tastes. And by that, I mean you’ll be buying me whatever I ask for, even if you have to take out a second mortgage to afford it.”

“Hi, everyone. Nice to see you. This is my boyfriend, Sandy. Why yes, we
are
an attractive couple, thank you for noticing.”

“I tell people I do yoga too so they think I’m cool, but I really don’t do yoga and instead eat sour cream and onion potato chips while watching renovation porn with Corey.”

“Why yes, Sandy and I will be there because we’re
boyfriends
and we do things together all the time.”

“If you fall into a hippopotamus exhibit at the zoo, chances are I’ll film it and put it on the Internet instead of helping you get out.”

“Sorry, can’t make it. Sandy and I are going away for the weekend to do boyfriend things.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded.

He scrunched his face at me. “What the fuck are
you
talking about?”

I bit his nipple.

It was glorious.

He laughed and pulled me toward him until I sat astride him. The look he gave me was so open and sweet that it made it kind of hard to breathe. I’d never had anyone look at me that way before. It made me think I was worth something to him, and didn’t that just blow my mind. Because this was Darren Mayne and I was… well. I was me. But if he could look at me like that, then maybe I’d done something to deserve it.

“You love me,” I said.

He shrugged and squirmed a little, clearly uncomfortable. But he kept his hands on my thighs, tracing his fingers along my skin. That was good enough for me.

“I’m not going to say it back,” I said slowly. “At least not yet. Not until I can be sure that you know I mean it.”

He grinned. It was wonderful. “I think I can live with that,” he said softly.

“Good,” I said roughly, wondering why the hell I was starting to get choked up, for fuck’s sake. “That’s real good.”

He reached up and tugged me down until he could kiss me thoroughly. I had no complaints with this, sighing happily as I pressed our foreheads together.

“Just think,” he said. “All of this is because of the gay bar.”

“What?” I asked, distracted by him hardening against my ass.

“The gay bar,” he repeated. “You know, how we had to raise that money—”

“Holy fucking shit!” I squealed, pulling away and sitting up quickly.

He grunted painfully as I squashed his balls, but I couldn’t be bothered with that. “Ow.”

“The gay bar!”

“What about it?” he said grumpily.

“We still have to save the fucking gay bar!” I shouted at him. “You’ve been distracting me with your masculine wiles and I didn’t even think to ask Mike how much money we raised.”

“My masculine
what
?”

I jumped up off him, trying not to be sidetracked by the fact that the Homo Jock King lay spread out before me, knowing I had a hand in how debauched he looked. “I have to talk to Mike. Now that you’ve pumped me full of your love, there are other things we have to focus on.”

“Never say that I
pumped you full of my love
ever again.”

I cocked my head at him as he pushed himself up. “But that’s what you did. And stop distracting me with your… existence.”

He stood in front of me, fully nude. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

I glared at him. “You
know
what it means. You’re all muscles and chest hair and awesomeness and there are places on you I still haven’t gotten to suck. Stop trying to distract me!”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get right on that.”

“Are you
flexing
?” I hissed at him.

“No, of course not. That would be ridiculous.” Then, “Is it working?”

Yes, but
he
didn’t need to know that. “Of course not. There are more important things to focus on!”

“Right,” he said. “That explains why you’ve got an erection and you’re drooling a little bit.”