Guys on Top 02 - Guys on the Side

Guys on the Side

Sequel to
Guys on Top

Darien Cox

Chapter One

Corey checked his phone again, and finally decided to send a text to Leonard, his client, who was now forty minutes late for his massage appointment.

‘
Where are you? Are you canceling? Please let me know
.’

When another ten minutes passed with no response from Leonard, Corey grew worried, wondering if the guy was dead. A morbid thought, of course; Leonard wasn’t
that
old at sixty-one. The man was, however, almost obsessively punctual, never missing an appointment, and had exhibited near panic on the few occasions Corey was forced to reschedule him due to personal conflicts. It was unusual for Leonard to cancel an appointment, but to simply not show up and not call? Unheard of.

Corey really hoped the guy wasn’t dead. Leonard Nardovino was a good person who seemed to be slowly working through his shitty problems and coming out the other side. Corey wanted Leonard to be okay.

Plus the man always left an overly generous tip.

Some clients partook of Corey’s services simply because he gave a great massage. Others, like Leonard, came for the healing aspects of his ministrations. Leonard in particular had grown rather dependent on the bimonthly sessions, during which Corey attempted to purge his crippling guilt, regret, and profound sense of loss for the life he’d once had—even though that life had been a lie.

After several years of doing this work, Corey had stopped trying to analyze exactly
what
his own gift was or how it worked. He only knew that he could sense sadness, anxiety, anger, and other variations of emotional turmoil by laying his hands on a person in a certain way—and more often than not, he could draw those bad feelings out of them, extinguishing the problem. Not everyone believed he could do this, of course, but Corey didn’t care about the naysayers. He had enough satisfied clients that a bit of fun-poking from his skeptical friends didn’t bother him in the least.

But even with the clients who seemed to benefit from his holistic talents, he could only eliminate the effect, not the cause, so his curative efforts were usually temporary. People’s lives were complicated, and life in general was a brutal, unpredictable bitch who threw flaming shit-balls at folks when they least expected it. It was just the way of things, a truth which padded Corey’s bank account—a fortunate bonus to the satisfaction of being able to help others, however fleetingly, with their problems.

He glanced at the empty massage table, prone and readied with fresh sheets. Pacing across the floor of the spare bedroom where he conducted his work, he pondered whether or not to just shut off the soothing music and turn out the light, since it was starting to look like his client wasn’t coming.

Still unwilling to believe Leonard would just blow him off, he left the room as is, and moved to the kitchen with his phone. He could hear the shower running down the hallway—Zach, who’d once again spent the night, getting ready for work. Corey had hoped he’d be deep into his session with Leonard by the time Zach got out of the shower, so he wouldn’t have to converse with him before he left. Which was a pretty shitty thought to have about the young man who was supposed to be his boyfriend.

But things with Zach were becoming more complicated with each passing day, and Corey needed a break from the arguments and constant nagging.

His phone quacked like a duck, indicating an incoming text message. Corey frowned as he read Leonard’s words on the screen.

‘
My son is here. Complications. Must cancel today. Apologies. Will pay for your time.
’

Corey sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t give a shit if Leonard paid him or not, he was simply worried about the guy. Leonard’s grown children, a son and a daughter, were, in Corey’s opinion, part of the fuel that fed their father’s anxiety. But Leonard was a grown man, he would have to deal with his own issues; Corey’s healing massage sessions could only do so much, and he had no delusions that Leonard, or any of his clients’ lives would be saved by a few words of comfort and an hour rubdown every couple weeks.

Ah well. Corey Stengel, Super Masseur, cannot save the world today.

He startled when Zach stepped into the kitchen, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, his short dark hair still wet from the shower. “Hey, Sexy,” Zach said, flashing his gorgeous smile as he pulled open the fridge door, rifling around for a bottled water.

“What are you doing?”

Zach straightened and faced Corey as he uncapped the bottle. “I’m getting a drink. What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that you’re walking around the house half-naked. You knew I had a client.”

“You always shut the door to the massage room when you’re working,” Zach said. “Besides, looks like your client isn’t here.”

“But he could have been,” Corey said. “I have enough trouble being taken seriously as a professional without naked boys wandering around here.”

“Chill out,” Zach said. “I thought you’d be in a better mood after that blowjob I gave you this morning.” He smirked. “And I’m a man. A
boy
couldn’t make you come the way I do.”

Zach took a drink, then leaned back against the counter, and Corey tried not to be distracted by all that exposed flesh. Zach was physically perfect: young, lean, and cut, with a face that could have graced magazine covers. And the little shit knew it, and used it to his advantage, wielding his sexuality as a weapon whenever Corey got irritated with him—which was often, as of late, with his constant jealousy, possessiveness, and the intense pressure he kept putting on Corey to let him move in.

Corey did love Zach. But lately, with Zach’s behavior what it was, he didn’t think cohabitation was a good idea. At least not until they sorted some shit out between them.

To avoid looking at Zach, Corey went to the window and gazed down at the backyard. Doug, his downstairs neighbor, was outside washing his car. Now
there
was a man. Corey absentmindedly watched Doug drag a sudsy rag across the hood of his car, those big brown eyes narrowed in a scowl of concentration. Doug was a mechanical engineer, and wore that serious scowl often as he went about his various projects. He was one of those hands-on guys that only seemed truly content when he had a problem to solve. Whether it was changing his oil or fixing a broken board on the front porch, Doug’s face always wore that stoic frown, like he was solving a complex mathematical equation or deciphering the mysteries of the universe.

Corey found it endearing, and smiled.

Though it was late September, the weather was still warm in Boston, and Doug wore jeans, and a faded gray tank top, his short brown hair slightly damp in the front with sweat. Corey had
hated
Doug when they first met, which had much to do with the fact Doug had just slept with Stewart, who was Corey’s live-in boyfriend at the time. But that was all in the past.

Stewart and Doug were together now, in a monogamous relationship, and Corey had made peace with it. But back then, though he and Stewart were in an open relationship—and he himself had been sleeping with Zach at the time—he’d known, the moment he met Doug Crandall, that it was all over. Doug wasn’t the sort of guy you slept with once and forgot. Doug was a guy you fell in love with, and Stewart had fallen hard.

“What are you smiling at?” Zach asked, coming up behind Corey and looking over his shoulder. He let out a derisive snort. “Oh.
Him
. Nice tank top. Could he try any harder to show off his body?”

Corey shrugged, ignoring Zach’s barb, eyes still cast down at the garage, and Doug, who circled his car with a hose now. Doug was a quiet, practical guy, and Corey knew that he had no interest in ‘showing off’ his body. He was simply a well-built man, but Zach had added him to the multitude of guys he assumed Corey wanted to sleep with, and therefore disliked him intensely. Corey did not want to sleep with Doug. He viewed him as a friend, and had come to value their conversations and time spent together. Though he did on occasion have dreams about Doug and Stewart...together...naked.

He couldn’t blame his subconscious for conjuring the images. He had been in love with Stewart for a long time, and Doug? Well, friend or not, the guy was smoking hot. It was a simple physical response that worked its way into his dreams. It wasn’t like he was about to call up his ex-boyfriend and ask if he could watch the two of them fuck some time, as a favor for old time’s sake.

In the waking world, Corey was faithful to Zach, and he didn’t want Doug Crandall or any other man. But at times, especially lately, he found himself wishing he had someone
like
Doug, a man he could have as a lover and also engage in deep conversations with, an equal. That was not Zach, he was finding out. He’d thought that committing to Zach, that pledging monogamy, would have eliminated the jealousy and clingy desperation his younger boyfriend had exhibited before, when Corey was still with Stewart. But if anything, Zach’s possessiveness had gotten worse, and it was starting to become oppressive.

“Why are you always watching him?” Zach asked, quite literally breathing down Corey’s neck.

“I’m not watching him,” Corey said. “He’s just there. Part of the scenery. Like the rose bushes.”

“Yeah, right,” Zach said. “The rose bushes don’t get you hard.” He reached around and palmed Corey’s soft cock through his pants.

Corey brushed his hand away and whirled around. “Cut the shit, Zachary.”

Zach held his hands up. “Just trying to get friendly with my boyfriend.”

“Bullshit. I know what you’re doing, and I don’t like it. We talked about this.”

Whether they were watching a film with hot guys in it, or happened to be around a man Zach felt Corey might be attracted to, he did this—suddenly reaching for Corey’s groin to test whether he was aroused or not. He used the excuse that he was trying to get frisky, but Corey knew what he was really doing—using Corey’s cock as a barometer to test his sexual fidelity. And it was pathetic.

Zach stepped back and removed his towel, revealing his swollen cock. “I’m not doing that, I swear. I just want you. See?”

Corey sighed, but his body responded to the sight of Zach naked. That Zach was hard was not necessarily evidence that he’d been pining for Corey as he claimed. Zach was young and insatiable, and was pretty much a walking boner most of the time.

Zach moved toward him and ran his hands down Corey’s chest. Corey felt himself weakening, and his dick began to stir. “See?” Zach said. “It’s just you. All about you, baby. I can’t look at you without wanting you,” he said, nibbling at Corey’s neck.

Fighting a battle between his annoyance and his budding arousal, Corey closed his eyes. This was what Zach did often. He knew that however irritated Corey was with him, he could always distract him and get him in the game this way. And while Corey still loved the sex, he was more than aware of what was happening. Zach was making a habit of manipulating him, and Corey had begun to lose all power in the relationship.

“We had sex this morning,” Corey said, opening his eyes.

“So?” Zach slid fingers up under Corey’s shirt, playing with his nipples. “I want you again. Or is once a day what you feel you need to do to maintain me?”

“You have to go work at the bar,” Corey said.

“Not for a while yet.” Zach’s hands traveled down and reached behind Corey, cupping his ass. “Are you rejecting me?”

Though Zach pressed his naked body into Corey and continued to lovingly knead his ass, his tone was sharp and accusatory, and his eyes held a challenge, that familiar unfriendly gleam that said anger was right around the corner if he didn’t get the response he was looking for.

Corey weighed his options. He needed to try again to have a serious talk with Zach soon, but knew if he brought it up now it would lead to a tantrum and ruin his night. But to placate Zach with sex was giving in to his manipulations once again. “We need to talk about some things, Zach.”

Zach’s hand slid off of Corey’s ass, around his hip, then palmed his cock...which had swelled considerably against his will. With the thin cotton pants he’d put on to do massage work, there was little barrier between his erection and Zach’s warm hand, and zings of pleasure made Corey’s ass tighten. “I’d rather fuck than talk,” Zach whispered. “Feels like you would, too.”

As he grew harder, so did his resolve to resist. Bottom line, Corey couldn’t think logically with a naked Zach pressed up against him, rubbing his groin, and smelling fresh and fragrant from his shower. “You little shit,” Corey said, finally grabbing Zach and pulling him in tightly against him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn hot.”

Zach grinned. “I’m also lucky
you’re
so damn hot.”

Attempting to gain back some of his control, Corey crouched down, and gripping Zach’s thighs, spread them wider and licked a line up the seam of his scrotum, a tactic he knew made his boyfriend crazy with arousal. It had the desired effect, as Zach whimpered and his legs wobbled, hands gripping Corey’s head for balance. Corey continued to tongue Zach’s sac with precision, satisfied with the helpless sounds he heard in response. This—controlling Zach’s body, his pleasure, was where Corey excelled.
This is where I rule
, he thought smugly as Zach’s breath came out in hard pants.