Twin Ties 1: My Brother's Lover (15 page)

Thanks to everything else that had already happened that night, Evan felt more relaxed and confident than he had thus far around Alek. Evan walked straight to him without first glancing around to check if they were being watched by anyone else. One thing that did catch Evan’s attention, though, was the band’s singer when he stepped out of the spotlight to take a drink of water. The guy flashed a knowing sort of grin in Alek’s direction and winked before he went back to the microphone.

The bar was packed. People were dancing and singing along, crowding in between the tables since all of the seats were filled up. Evan weaved between patrons and finally got to Alek. The slightly secluded spot Alek saved for them had a poor view of the stage and was totally out of the bartender’s line of sight, so it was the least stuffy place in the whole room. Feeling even more brazen than when he’d joined Alek in the bathroom that first night, Evan beckoned to Alek seductively without saying a word, needing him like Brennan needed Luka. Hair mussed like he just rolled out of bed, his t-shirt formed to the slight curves and hard planes of his body with a light layer of sweat from the humidity, Evan knew he looked different than before, and not just because of the heat of the room.

He slid up next to Alek, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on the table beside him, giving Alek a sleepy, sideways grin. Claiming the full beer as his own without asking, Evan took a drink from the bottle. In a husky voice just audible under the din, he said, “Hey Alek. How’s it goin’?”

“Pretty good, now that you’re here. Wow. You look....”

“Fuckable?” Evan supplied with a slightly wider, suggestive smirk before hiding it behind the mouth of the bottle.

The glass bottle clinked down onto the tabletop, slipping free of Evan’s grasp when, in a flash of movement so fast Evan didn’t anticipate it at all, Alek’s finger hooked in one of Evan’s belt loops and yanked him around, spinning him. The move put their mouths maybe an inch apart. It gave Evan an up-close, clear view of the fire he was playing with, dancing in the darkness of Alek’s eyes. Half-expecting Alek to bare his teeth and bite down on his neck like a wild animal, Evan chuckled nervously and added, “Well, not right now though. Rather have the mob watching the band, not me bent over the table takin’ the ol’ love-salami.”

The words had no effect at all, and Evan only had time to think, ‘
Uh-oh
,’ before Alek’s teeth really were coming at him, nipping at his bottom lip hard enough to hurt before licking back over the wound, into Evan’s mouth, cradling his head with one hand and backing him up to the table’s edge. It was very dark and no one was paying them any attention, but it still rattled Evan when he felt Alek’s huge hand blatantly palm his ass and squeeze.

His face and neck flushed as blood rushed under his skin and surged downward like a rocket to his cock, leaving him dizzy and dazed. Alek’s eyes were open, watching Evan intently as one long finger rubbed, hard, down the center seam in the seat of Evan’s pants. Evan undulated forward at the intimate touch, his hands splayed on Alek’s chest to brace himself. He had nowhere to go, held tightly in Alek’s arms, and gasped against Alek’s mouth, very much aware of where they were and how many people could be watching his first real public display of affection with another guy.

“You’re really gonna let me have you, Jailbait? Hmm?”

Evan exhaled roughly, swallowing back a broken sound. His head fell downward in a semblance of a nod.

“Was that a yes?”

“Later,” Evan croaked. “Yes.”

Alek rubbed over the curve of Evan’s ass. Hooking a thumb in the waistband of Evan’s jeans, which were riding quite low, Alek delved underneath, stroking gently. There was nothing there but skin, since Evan chose not to bother with underwear.

“You go commando a lot? I like it. Easy access.” Alek’s lip caught between the points of his teeth, rolling it, making him look as hungry as ever. “I would, you know. I’d do you right fuckin’ here. Or maybe at least pull you into the kitchen first so there’d only be... hmm... three witnesses instead of two hundred.”

“Gee thanks. How thoughtful.”

Alek smirked wickedly, then got suddenly serious, asking, “What changed your mind?”

“You. Er, well, it’s just time. I know I want it. I want you to be my first. I’m ready. But I’d like to have an actual, you know. A date. First. Please.”

Alek was looking at him closely, like he was trying to read Evan’s expression. But there was so much churning inside him, Evan wasn’t sure what Alek saw. Alek brushed the pads of his fingers over the ridge of Evan’s cheekbone and sighed his name.

Shrinking under the scrutiny, Evan’s eyes fluttered closed. He frowned oh-so-slightly, knowing he was choosing to cross a line, that even by standing there, being held as he was by Alek, he’d gone farther than he ever had before. There was no turning back. The noise of the bar thundered all around them, rattling his bones, thumping under his skin, blending together. Heat radiated from hundreds of bodies, but it was only the two of them. No one else mattered.

“And, yes, I know how stupid that sounds,” Evan admitted when Alek didn’t say anything else, detecting something like concern in Alek’s eyes. Alek immediately shut him up with a tender kiss.

Resting a hand in the small of Evan’s back, Alek gave him a little space and guided him to a barstool.

“You hungry? Want something other than this?” He clinked Evan’s beer with his own. “We make a mean burger here if you’re interested.”

“Nah,” Evan replied. “I’m good.”

Trying to keep his eyes on the tabletop and the beer bottle, Evan couldn’t help noticing also that there were people looking at them. Specifically the bartender and the band’s singer on stage were watching them, not to mention random people in the crowd. Alek slid his stool closer to Evan. One of his hands fell onto Evan’s thigh, the fingers curling around to the inside, wedging between Evan’s legs possessively. Sipping from his beer, Alek glared right at one guy who dared to look too long at Evan. Evan caught it and hid a grin.

Time slipped by. They talked about their jobs, which, it turned out, they were both devoted to. They also talked about hunting, something they each loved to do. When Alek realized they needed another round of beers, he gestured to the bartender, a lovely, dark-haired, keen-eyed woman who instantly started to make her way over.

“I want you to meet someone,” Alek told Evan, sitting up a little straighter. The woman arrived at their table and rested her forearms on it, leaning toward them. The pose showed off her cleavage, and Evan couldn’t care less. When he glanced sideways at Alek, he was happy to see Alek wasn’t ogling her either. In fact, for the first time Alek seemed to have lost some of his plentiful confidence and looked a little unsure. Evan had no time to ponder this as the bartender spoke up, looking Evan over.

“Now, aren’t you just the cutest thing. Good thing you’ve got this big puppy dog to protect you in this crowd. ’Fore ya know it, you’d have some cougar or a dirty old man trying to hump on you in the bathroom.”

Evan choked a little on his beer. When he glanced sideways, he saw Alek purse his lips, lowering his eyes to the table. “Evan, this is my friend Katie. She’s got a big mouth.”

Katie flashed Alek her sweetest smile and eye-groped Evan some more.

“Katie, keep your paws off of him.”

She meowed, then giggled. “So Evan, this is the first time Alek has ever introduced someone he likes to me, in all the years I’ve known the guy. You must be somethin’ special.” “Could we get another round please? Without the commentary?” Alek asked pointedly.

She eyed Alek’s hand, clamped around Evan’s upper thigh, and asked Evan, “He treating you okay, hon?”

“Yeah,” Evan smirked. “He is.”

“Good. Well, if he gets too fresh with ya, gimme a shout and I’ll give Aleksy a little refresher in how to be a gentleman.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She slinked away. Alek cleared his throat and told him, “Sorry about that. She’s a little forward sometimes, but she means well.”

They got their beers and the night slipped by. The music was good and Evan was having a great time just hanging out with Alek and listening. He chuckled at the way the singer kept flirting with the women in the front row, at one point singing right to a redhead and grinding up on her a little.

When there was a sudden outbreak of shouting and commotion from the far end of the room near the door, the rest of the crowd fell quiet. After another minute, the band’s long-haired singer, the same one who was eyeing them earlier, stopped playing, motioning to one of the bouncers by the exit.

Two men were brawling, Evan saw. A tall, muscular, dark-skinned guy pulled them apart only to get a sharp left hook to the mouth for his trouble.

Before Evan realized he was going, Alek was up and darting across the room in a flash. He pushed through the throng and swiftly manhandled a stocky, bearded guy, who was still throwing punches, out the door. Evan stood; trying to see over people’s heads what the hell was going on but couldn’t make out much. He was just beginning to wonder if Alek was okay, if he should have gone after him when the crowd parted, letting Alek and the bouncer through.

Alek, scowling but otherwise fine, led his companion by the arm to another barstool at their table, the one across from Evan. The guy’s lip was split and bleeding.

“Sit!”

The bouncer protested, saying angrily, “I ain’tcher dog, Alek. I’m fine! Seriously!” Alek stalked over to the bar, pushing through the crowd to take a towel wrapped around some ice from Katie. Turning to Evan, the newcomer held out a hand and said, “Hey. I’m Presley. I’m one of Alek’s roommates.”

“Hey. I’m Evan.” He shook Presley’s hand as Alek reappeared, still raging and incensed. Teeth gritted, eyes burning, body tensed and ready to fight, the sight of him so wound up was more than a little hot and Evan couldn’t look away. He just replayed in his head how easily Alek threw the brawler out, like he was a ragdoll instead of a two-hundred-plus pound guy.

“Good. You’ve met,” Alek said, nodding. He glanced around threateningly at everyone staring at them. “Oh, here we go,” he groaned, retaking his seat as the singer from the band darted through the crowd toward them.

Once he got to their table, the long-haired man yanked Presley around in his seat and grabbed his chin, forcibly tilting Presley’s head back to get a better look at his split lip. “I’ll fucking kill ’em.”

“Let go of me! Kill ’em for what? Being drunk? I’m fine. Calm down.”

“This is Carter. He’s my roommate,” Alek explained to Evan.

“Another one?”

Carter frowned heavily at the sight of blood on the ice pack from Katie, his hackles evidently rising again.

“Carter, man.
Be cool
. Go finish your set,” Presley insisted, all-too-aware of how many people were still staring at them.

Huffing, Carter glanced back at the exit like he intended to go after the guy who punched Presley.

Presley shouted, “Carter!”

“Fine. Two more songs and I’m taking you home,” Carter said, pointing a finger at Presley who rolled his eyes and seemed kind of pissed off at the implication he couldn’t take care of himself. Then Carter appeared to realize he hadn’t acknowledged the other two men at the table. He turned to Evan and offered a hand.

“Hey, sorry man. I’m Carter.”

“Evan,” Evan nodded, shaking Carter’s hand.

“Excuse me, I’ve gotta,” he thumbed back over his shoulder at the stage and took off.

Alek leaned closer to Presley, telling him, “It’s just ’cause he feels responsible.”

“I know that. Still doesn’t mean he can treat me like his bitch,” Presley seethed.

Alek sighed, sitting back. He took a deep pull from his beer, then turned to put his lips right by Evan’s ear, confiding, “Carter asked Pres to handle security tonight, just in case, as a favor.”

“Oh. Are they....” Evan glanced down at Alek’s hand fitted intimately between Evan’s thighs.

Alek caught his meaning but didn’t reply right away. Dropping his gaze, fingering drips of condensation on his beer, he replied, “No.”

“Huh. Coulda fooled me.”

An hour later, Presley and Carter shuffled into the house. Presley headed straight for his room. Once inside, he dropped his keys and wallet on the bureau. Carter went to his own room across the hall and lingered in the doorway, half in and half out, tracking Presley from the corner of his eye, watching as Presley pulled his shirt over his head and tossed his knit hat onto a chair.

Presley could feel his friend’s eyes on him, but ignored it as long as he could. When his hands went to the button fly of his jeans, he hesitated for a moment. Then he went ahead and took the pants off, leaving his boxer briefs on and grabbing a pair of sweats to sleep in.

Carter was still watching.

Presley, sighing, finished pulling the sweatpants on and rubbed a hand wearily over his face.

“Go to bed, Carter.”

“Not sleepy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really in the mood right now.”

“Bullshit,” Carter growled, sounding like he was still riled up from the gig and the fight. After a beat he added, somewhat more gently, “Let me make it up to you.”