Guys on Top 02 - Guys on the Side (12 page)

Corey closed the door. “I was getting dressed,” he said.

Zach tried not to let his insecurity get the better of him, but his gaze instantly fell on Stewart, who nodded at him. “Hey, Zach. How’s it going? You’re lookin’ posh tonight.”

“Hi, Stewart.” Zach tried to make the greeting friendly, but all he could do was scrutinize Stewart. Stewart, with his decidedly moppish dark hair and his stupid charming accent and his dreamy blue eyes. He wondered, for the thousandth time, if Corey still had feelings for his ex. And wondered, for the zillionth time, why the hell Corey still hung out with him.

“Nice bowtie, Zach!” Rod said. “Why you all dressed up?”

Jairo’s boyfriend Rod was always nice to Zach, and was pretty much the only one Zach liked out of the crew. He was a cute young guy with close cropped, dirty blond hair, and he had a mellow disposition. Zach wondered how the hell Rod could tolerate Jairo’s over exuberant personality.

“I’ve got a bartending gig,” he said to Rod.

“Jesus, Corey,” Doug said. “Go cover up, your nipples are staring at me.”

“Yeah, you’re just intimidated,” Jairo said to Doug. “You’re just as body obsessed as he is. The three of you, in fact.” He pointed to Stewart. “Put down the weights and eat a donut for Christ sakes.”

“I eat donuts,” Stewart said. “I fucking love donuts.”

“I’m not body obsessed,” Doug said. “I work out for peace of mind.”

“Yeah,” Zach chimed in. “Doug has to work out because of his
anger
issues.”

It was a barb, and Doug knew it, because he gave Zach an unfriendly look. “Well,” Doug said, “maybe Corey works out for the same
reason
. Maybe
something
in his life causes him stress.”

“Doug,” Corey said. “Zip it. I’m gonna go get dressed.” Corey disappeared down the hallway.

“Jairo, you’re not in bad shape,” Stewart said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Please,” Jairo said. “I wasn’t asking to have my ego salved, I have no desire to be one of you muscle heads.”

“I’m not a muscle head,” Stewart said. “I barely work out. I lift pipes around at work, that’s all.”

“And what about
you?
” Jairo pointed at Zach. “How come you’re so cut and perfect?”

“I’m twenty-five,” Zach said.

Jairo grimaced. “You’re...you’re twenty-fucking-five?”

Zach nodded.

Jairo frowned at him. “Well...fuck you. And Corey, you’re an old perv!” he shouted down the hall.

“Takes one to know one!” Corey shouted back.

“I’ve gotta go,” Zach said. “Tell Corey I said bye.” With that, he left the apartment quickly.

He’d wanted to get out of there, make a clean exit, because the desire to storm down the hallway and shout at Corey was overwhelming. Zach hadn’t liked that comment Doug made about something in Corey’s life causing him
stress
. What, was Corey talking to Doug about him behind his back now? Bitching about Zach and gossiping to Doug about it like a little schoolgirl?

Fuck it. He had to put it out of his mind for now, he had a job to do tonight and didn’t want to be spilling champagne all over the wealthy Richard Carmichael’s party guests.

Traffic wasn’t bad, and he made it to Beacon Hill in good time. The house was a tall brick thing with wrought iron gates, and the inside was pretty much what he expected: spacious, elegant, and crawling with overdressed rich people.

He worked out that it was some sort of fundraiser, but wasn’t sure for what, and didn’t really care. There were men and women dressed similarly to Zach, passing out hors d’oeuvres, and one of them got Zach set up at the extravagant, white marbled bar at the back of the largest room.

The drink orders were nothing overwhelming, most of the guests were having champagne from the mobile servers. But Zach also mixed several dry martinis, poured gimlets, made Manhattans and the like. Strong drinks—a way for rich people to do shots without seeming lowbrow.

The night wore on. Speeches were made by guys in suits, and the well-dressed yet pickled guests heckled them good-naturedly. A band played classic jazz songs and people slow danced, ate caviar, and basically partied like a bunch of blueblood rock stars. Zach got a lot of tips, which on top of the flat rate meant he’d have lots of cash in his pocket for a job that was more or less a cake walk. If he figured out who’d recommended him to Richard Carmichael for this job, he’d be sure to express his gratitude.

From across the crowded room, Zach watched a vision coming toward him that at first he wasn’t sure was real. He blinked, then stared.

Brooks?

Smiling slyly, Brooks made his way to the bar. His blond dreads were tied back into a ponytail, and he wore a jade green silk shirt unbuttoned to his chest, with strands of thick silver chains around his neck. The entire image still screamed ‘hippie’, but a more polished, expensive version than his usual tie-dyed persona.

Fuck me, what the hell is
he
doing here?

“Hello, Zach.” He leaned on the bar, eyes glinting as he smiled. “Having a good night?”

“Why are you here, Brooks?”

He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Zach. “To give you this,” he said. “From my father.”

Zach examined the cash in the envelope, then looked quickly up at Brooks. “Your father?”

“Yeah. I’m Brooks Carmichael. Richard is my dad.”

Zach huffed, and shook his head. “Did you...are you the one that got me this job tonight?”

Brooks’ grin widened. “You’re welcome.”

“Why did you to that?”

Grin faltering a bit, Brooks looked Zach over, then met his eyes again. “Well, that doesn’t sound like gratitude.”

“Seriously,” Zach said. “This is fucked up. Why did you get me this job?”

“Take it easy.” Brooks snatched a glass of champagne from a tray as a waitress strolled by. “I wanted to apologize for the other night. For not respecting you had a boyfriend. I kind of pushed myself on you, and I’m sorry. Consider this a gesture of my sincere regret for making you uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” Zach stuffed the envelope of cash into his pocket. “You didn’t have to do that. But thanks. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.” Zach’s wide smile returned. “You look great.”

“Thank you. You look...nice too.” And Brooks did look good. Despite the fact that Zach was more than a little uncomfortable with this turn of events, his eye was once again drawn to Brooks’ cute face, and he felt the same attraction he had Saturday night. But he forced himself to look away. He could
not
go there again.

He scanned the crowd, hoping someone would come along and ask for a drink, but the party guests were all in their own worlds, good and toasted and clustered in groups, laughing and talking.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, Zach.” Brooks slapped the bar twice, then turned and made his way off through the crowd again.

Well, that solves that
.

Zach was relieved Brooks hadn’t stuck around, and it wasn’t all because he felt somewhat tricked and manipulated by him. He was more concerned about his own lack of control. How had he allowed that to happen with Brooks the other night? If he loved Corey so much, why did he succumb to temptation like that?

Out of control
. And it wasn’t just Brooks making him feel that way. He’d been having impulse control issues ever since Corey had pledged his fidelity.

Zach told himself time and again to shut his mouth when he was harassing Corey with jealous accusations, that he was going to drive him away. But then his mouth would open, and the words would just spill out, like he couldn’t help himself. It was self-destructive, but he couldn’t seem to stop his own behavior.

Was he
trying
to ruin things with Corey? On some subconscious level, did he want Corey to break up with him? It was silly. He loved Corey, but the sense of inequity in their relationship infuriated him in a way that was far more extreme than the situation called for. Corey was trying, being nice and attempting to reason with Zach, to prove himself. Yet Zach always put Corey on the defensive, like he had some sort of grudge against him, though there was no solid reason for it.

I am one fucked up little cookie.

Maybe all those months of being in love with Corey when he couldn’t fully have him had left a scar. Those times when Corey would leave his bed in the middle of the night to go home to Stewart. The times Zach heard rumors of other men that had bedded Corey in the same damn week. Those dreamy moments after great sex when he’d convinced himself that Corey was in love with him too, only to spot him down at the pond later that day, laughing and walking with his arm around Stewart’s waist.

He should be able to let those things go now. But clearly he hadn’t.

The revelation was unsettling. Would he ever? Would he ever be able to let it go, and simply enjoy being in a relationship with Corey? It had been six months since they’d been together as a true couple, and the hurt and anger still lingered.

After another half hour, one of the waiters came by and told Zach he was done, that he could pack up and go home. He collected his tips from the glass vase on the bar, and after consulting with one of the waitresses, made his way down a wide hallway to a bathroom, his bladder ready to burst.

After peeing, he washed his hands in the enormous, seashell-shaped sink, then dried them on a plush guest towel.

He went to leave the bathroom, but when he opened the door, Brooks stood there in the hallway. “Brooks. Hey.”

Brooks placed his hands on Zach’s chest and gently pushed him back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “Hey,” he said. He wrapped his arms around Zach’s waist, pulling him in. “Alone at last.”

“What are you doing?” Zach unraveled himself from the embrace and stepped back.

Brooks moved in again, grasping Zach’s cheeks, then running fingers through his hair, his cat-like eyes narrowed. “I want to kiss you. I need to taste your mouth again.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea.” Brooks kissed Zach, walking him backwards, pressing him against the bathroom wall.

Just like Saturday night, Zach told himself to stop the kiss. And just like Saturday night, he couldn’t seem to do it, and instead allowed Brooks’ tongue to invade his mouth. A rush of arousal blasted through his groin. He’d gotten worked up earlier from blowing Corey, and his cock hadn’t forgotten, springing to attention and demanding its fair share.

He placed his hands on Brooks’ shoulders, intending to push him away. But instead, he ran his palms down the silky sleeves of Brooks’ shirt, feeling the heat of his body underneath, and pulled him closer.

Stop. Zach, you fucking idiot. Stop
.

When he felt the hand slide up his already hard cock over his pants, he broke the kiss and let out a breath. “No, Brooks. I can’t. Please, stop touching me.”

Brooks stared into Zach’s eyes and kept stroking, applying just the right amount of pressure to make his head spin. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Just this once. Just this once, Zach. No one else needs to know.”

“Is this why you brought me here?” Zach asked, still unable to muster the control to push Brooks’ hand off his groin. “Is this why you got me this job?”

“No. I seriously wanted to apologize. But as soon as I saw you...” Brooks unzipped Zach’s pants and pushed them down with a jerk, making him gasp. “As soon as I saw you all I wanted was your dick in my mouth.” He dropped to his knees.

The back of Zach’s head hit the wall as Brooks’ hot mouth engulfed him. “Oh God.” Brooks was no stranger to cock, that much was obvious, his tongue seeming to find all the right places, the suction gentle but torturous. Once again, Zach told himself to stop this, but when Brooks’ fingered his hole, his arousal ignited tenfold and his knees nearly buckled. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he huffed, the pleasure of the soft mouth around his throbbing cock almost too much.

Brooks briefly slid his mouth off, and said, “But it’s so good, you want it,” then drew him in again, fluttering his tongue and using just a hint of teeth.

Get this guy off your cock. Get some fucking control and go home to your boyfriend, you fucking cheating idiot
.

“Wait.” Zach grabbed Brooks’ head. “Wait, stop. I can’t. Brooks,
stop
.”

Ignoring him, Brooks tugged Zach against his face, deep throating him, keeping him there while he fingered his hole. Zach’s orgasm crashed through him like an electric shock, taking him by surprise and making him see stars as he gushed into Brooks’ soft throat.

He whimpered and shoved Brooks’ head away. “I told you to stop.” His legs gave out as the last pulses of bliss cascaded through his body, and he slid down the wall.

He sat there on the floor, disheveled, pants around his knees, and he’d never felt like more of a disgrace.

Brooks knelt in front of him, wiping his mouth. “Get up,” Brooks said. “Bend over the sink. I want to fuck that tight ass of yours.”

Zach climbed to his feet on rubbery legs, and pulled up his pants, zipping them.

“What are you doing?” Brooks asked.

Shaking his head slowly, Zach pushed Brooks away from him. “This was a mistake.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that, Zach! I just swallowed your cum.”

“Oh, God.” Zach rubbed his forehead, stumbling toward the door. “I shouldn’t have let you start that.”

“
Let
me? You fucking loved it, you were hard as granite. Where are you going?”

Tugging open the door, Zach moved swiftly down the hall, tucking his shirt in as he went. He passed a couple of lingering party guests who paid him no mind, then went straight for the front door.

He’d made it outside and to the bottom of the front steps when Brooks called his name.

“Zach!”

Zach stopped, sighed, and turned back to see Brooks coming toward him. “I’m sorry,” Zach said. “Please, I just have to go.”

The door opened and a man in a black suit led a couple of guests out, bidding goodbyes. The guests drifted past Brooks and Zach, heading toward the road.