“Everything was so good,” Trenton said as he helped Scottie clear the last of the plates from the table before carrying them into the kitchen. “I’ve got to admit that I’m more than a little envious of your cooking skills.”
Scottie laughed, a light, easy sound that Trenton had been hearing more and more of after Scottie had finished his second glass of wine.
“Well, I have to admit something, too…” Scottie nibbled at his lip, that light pink flush reappearing on his cheeks. “I didn’t actually cook this all myself. Newton and Gage helped quite a bit. And, um… Martha Stewart, too.”
It was Trenton’s turn to laugh now. “You really called in the big guns. But it paid off. That risotto was pretty amazing.”
Trenton couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a nice, delicious meal—and he actually felt kind of honored that Scottie had evidently put so much time and consideration into making it, even calling in his friends to help.
And Martha Stewart, of course.
Scottie turned away to put some dishes in the sink while Trenton brought in the last couple of plates from the dining room. When Scottie turned around to take them from him, though, he must not have realized how close Trenton had been standing, because they were suddenly face to face, Scottie’s hands on top of Trenton’s as they both fumbled with the small stack of plates between them.
“I, um…” Scottie swallowed hard as Trenton looked into his eyes. The expression on Scottie’s face was a mixture of surprise and something else, something Trenton couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that made that light pink flush deepen and spread down to Scottie’s throat. Trenton’s eyes moved back up to Scottie’s mouth, watching Scottie’s lips as he waited for the man to finish speaking. “What were we talking about?” Scottie asked, finally.
Trenton felt the corners of his mouth turn up, but he tried to hold back his smile. He didn’t want Scottie to feel embarrassed or… whatever was making him blush. Only belatedly did Trenton realize their hands were still touching.
Once he made sure Scottie had the dishes firmly in his grasp, Trenton slowly let go, putting a little bit of space between them again so he could actually focus on something besides Scottie’s face. Or his brown eyes. Or his lips.
“I’m not sure,” Trenton confessed, taking a deep breath and then slowly letting it out again. “Something about Martha Stewart, I think.”
“Oh, right.” Scottie laughed, his eyes darting back to Trenton’s even as he turned to put the dishes in the sink. “She makes a pretty good risotto.”
“Indeed,” Trenton nodded, unable to keep that smile away now, no matter how hard he might have tried. “And so do you. Thank you for having me over tonight. I really had a good time.”
“I’m glad,” Scottie said, his voice sounding a little breathless as he turned back to fully face Trenton again.
Again, Trenton was very aware of how close they were standing. Had they ever been this close?
He was pretty sure they hadn’t.
Even when they’d both been closed up inside Trenton’s small, cramped office, he hadn’t been this… aware of Scottie.
Or maybe Trenton just hadn’t been paying attention so closely then.
But he was paying attention now.
“So, I should probably be going,” Trenton said, not even trying to move from where he stood. “But maybe we could—”
“Do this again sometime?” Scottie interrupted, finishing Trenton’s sentence. “I mean… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… just… if you want to?”
“I do,” Trenton said without hesitating. “This was nice. It was fun. It was… good.”
He needed to leave now, before he said something stupid. Or… more stupid.
What was it about Scottie that made Trenton want to be around him? What was it that made Trenton want to let his guard down?
Why in the hell could he not stop staring at the man’s lips, for God’s sake?
“Okay,” Scottie said, nodding. “Okay. Good. Great.”
“Great,” Trenton repeated, though his voice sounded a little raspy, even to his own ears. “I’m going to go now. Thanks again.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Scottie said, finally moving and breaking whatever spell Trenton had seemingly fallen under that had kept his feet from heading toward the door over the past several minutes.
He let Scottie usher him back through the house to the front door, only pausing for a split second before stepping outside. He clearly needed some fresh air, since his brain was obviously short circuiting.
Had it really just been that long since Trenton had done something social? Had he just completely forgotten how to act?
“Thanks again,” Trenton said, looking back over his shoulder to where Scottie was standing at the door. “I had a really nice time.”
“Thank you for coming over,” Scottie said, smiling. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
“Yeah. For sure.”
Trenton turned and hurried to his car before he could say or do anything else.
He wasn’t sure what had come over him back there in Scottie’s kitchen. He’d only had one glass of wine with dinner, and that had been nearly an hour ago. He wasn’t feeling ill at all… but something was definitely off.
Still, as confused as he was, he couldn’t stop smiling.
There was just something about Scottie that brought it out in him. Something unexpected and different.
Something Trenton had never seen or felt before.
Something special.
Jesus, he had to get home. He was losing his damn mind.
It didn’t take Trenton long to get back to his house on the other side of Silver Lake, which was good, since he was still having a really hard time focusing.
Well, focusing on anything aside from Scottie.
Trenton felt almost giddy as he parked his car in the small, detached garage and stepped out into the night air, fishing in his pocket for his house keys.
He still had no real explanation for the about face he’d done with Scottie, but it was hard to question it too much when it felt so much better than the way things had been before.
Trenton had been blinded by his own insecurities, his own anger and pride, that he had immediately shut down Scottie’s initial attempts at friendship.
That had definitely been a mistake. A stupid, senseless mistake.
And Trenton hated that it had taken something so awful—that Scottie’s sweet little puppy had to get hurt—for Trenton to realize what an idiot he’d been the whole time.
Scottie wasn’t the enemy.
He wasn’t out to get Trenton, or to hurt his business.
Scottie was just a regular guy, trying to get by—just the same way Trenton was.
He was single.
Probably a little lonely.
Just like Trenton was.
Opening the door and stepping inside his darkened house, Trenton’s mind went back to how light and bright and airy Scottie’s living room, dining room, and kitchen had been. His Cape Cod style home was about as different as it could be from Trenton’s stuffy old Victorian, with its small rooms and dark, somber furnishings.
Those things had never bothered Trenton before—and didn’t really bother him now, if he was being honest. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that his house made him feel differently than Scottie’s did.
That was just a fact.
Or maybe it was that Scottie had been there that had made Trenton feel that way. That was probably a lot of it.
He walked through his own kitchen, past the dining room, navigating by the slivers of moonlight that filtered in through the gaps in the heavy curtains.
Yeah, it was probably possible that Scottie could even light up this old house just by stepping through the door.
Jesus, he needed to get the guy off his mind.
Even that thought made Trenton stop and shake his head. It was almost like he had a crush on the guy, for God’s sake.
Was that what it meant to have a man crush? Was that actually a real thing that real people did?
Trenton wasn’t gay. He knew that much.
Sure, he had occasionally let his mind wander… he had maybe considered what it might be like to touch a guy. Or kiss a guy. Or… more.
But he had definitely never acted on any of that. He had never even said any of it out loud.
Still, it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Not that a dry spell meant he was suddenly into dick or anything, but he did have to admit—at least in the privacy of his own thoughts—that Scottie had brought something out in him that Trenton hadn’t felt in a really long time.
Something he maybe hadn’t ever felt, if he was being completely honest with himself.
He slowly walked up the stairs to his bedroom, trying to make sense of what he was thinking.
Maybe it had just been so long since Trenton had really connected with anyone—friend or otherwise—that he was reading too much into it with Scottie.
Maybe he was reading way too much into it, in fact.
Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Scottie was gay. It wasn’t like Trenton had ever really had any gay friends before—well, none that he had known of, at least. So this feeling, this connection with another man—a man who just happened to like other men—was different than anything else Trenton had experienced. It was a different feeling than hanging out with any of his old straight friends, that was for sure.
This was better.
Easier.
More relaxing, in an unexplainable sort of way.
Jesus, he needed to go to bed. All of this shit was getting too deep for a Friday night.
Without even bothering to switch on the bedroom light, Trenton stripped out of his clothes and sprawled out across his bed.
Even lying there in his boxers, it was too hot in his room, but it was also a long walk back downstairs to adjust the thermostat.
Sighing, he stood up again and walked over to the window, opening it just enough to let in the crisp fall air. That was much better.
He stood there for a moment, letting the breeze wash over his nearly naked body before walking back over to the bed.
Whether it was the hot room, the cool breeze, or the direction his wandering mind had been heading before, his cock was half-hard as he climbed into bed again.
“Fuck,” he muttered. There was really no way he was going to be able to sleep with a hard-on—which had gotten fully hard since he’d turned his attention to it.
He closed his eyes and absently let his hand skim down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until it was resting over his cock, the thin fabric in between causing just enough friction to make it almost painful as it throbbed under his touch.
Closing his hand around the shaft, he slowly stroked himself, his mind still racing from everything he’d been thinking about.
Scottie’s face was of course the only thing his mind kept coming back to. And every time he thought about that delicious pink flush of his cheeks and those full lips, Trenton’s cock responded by getting even harder, jerking against the palm of his hand as if it was insisting he do more.
Quickly, breathlessly, he raised his hips just enough to slide his boxers down around his thighs, his rock-hard cock springing up and begging to be stroked again.
“Jesus fuck,” he moaned, his hand wrapping around the hot shaft again as his hips thrust upward.
All of the tension and uncertainty that had been building inside of him was finally being put to use, channeled into each thrust, each stroke, each long, low moan that escaped his lips.
His free hand roamed across his chest, grazing across a nipple and making his back arch as he sucked in a sharp breath.
Yes.
Trenton could already feel his balls tighten as the heat inside him spread, rising like a tidal wave that was threatening to overtake him.
He wanted this release.
Needed it.
His eyes were still closed, that vision of Scottie as he nibbled at his lip still stuck there in his mind. Except now it was mingling with other thoughts, hotter thoughts.
Trenton could almost picture Scottie looking up at him with those big, brown eyes full of emotion. Looking up and waiting for Trenton to say the words… waiting to wrap those full, sweet lips around Trenton’s hard cock.
“Oh, fuck,” Trenton groaned. His cock was slick with pre-cum, and the sound of him stroking filled the room as he began to lose himself in the fantasy. “Yes… yes… suck it.” He swallowed hard, the image so vivid in his mind. “Suck it… Scottie.”
That was all it took for him to come undone, the first wave of his orgasm rushing through him and making him gasp as white-hot jets streaked out over his fist and across his stomach.
Every muscle in his body tightened and flexed, his eyes squeezed shut and his head tossed back against the pillow as he came.
For several seconds afterward, he couldn’t catch his breath—wasn’t entirely sure if he was even breathing at all.
“Jesus,” he whispered, finally opening his eyes, his vision still blurred from the intensity of his orgasm.
It had been intense, but exactly what he’d needed to relax.
He looked down at his body, still streaked with the evidence of his fantasy. Yeah, that had definitely happened.
But it wasn’t like that meant anything, right?
It had just been a fantasy… right?