Chapter Eight
The party went on for hours. Long past Eric’s usual bedtime. He tried to mingle with everyone, drifting between the basement and the living room upstairs, but like magnets he and Kyle kept being drawn together.
He wasn’t sure if Kyle was doing it on purpose, or if he didn’t know enough people at the party, but almost every time Eric spotted him, he was standing alone. Sometimes he would be admiring a piece of art, sometimes just watching the party. A couple of times he’d had his phone out. Eric had been unable to resist checking in on him every time.
The guests were finally starting to clear out, and Eric thought maybe Kyle had left while he’d been upstairs, but when Eric returned to the basement he found him collecting empty beer bottles.
“You don’t have to do that,” Eric said.
Kyle glanced up from where he was bent over a side table and grinned.
“Habit. And someone needs to do this. Your friends are animals.” Kyle had removed his scarf, and now Eric could admire the long lines of his neck.
“They’re not the most considerate bunch,” Eric agreed as he helped Kyle gather up the bottles.
He heard the front door open and close a couple of times above them as they worked, and soon he couldn’t hear evidence of anyone else in the
house besides the two of them.
“Where’s Maria?” Eric asked.
“She left over an hour ago. One of the couples offered to drop her off at home. I can’t remember their names, but the wife is pregnant.”
“That’s Breezy and Martine.”
“Decent, non-murderous people, I assume?”
“They’re great. And they’re from Montreal, so they have no problem driving in Manhattan.”
“Good to know. Should these go to the kitchen?” Kyle had his arms full of about a dozen empty bottles. He was obviously well practiced in the art of carrying large numbers of glass containers.
“Yeah. We can rinse them out up there. Or I can. You can go home.” Eric laughed nervously. “You are under no obligation to help me clean up.”
“I really don’t mind.” Kyle headed for the stairs, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. “You’re the birthday boy. You shouldn’t have to clean.” He winked, and Eric really wished he’d stop doing that.
“I have cleaners coming tomorrow,” Eric said as he followed him up the stairs, trying but failing to not admire Kyle’s ass as it swayed in front of his face.
“So you were just planning to go to bed with this mess of bottles everywhere?” It was a question, but it sounded like Kyle already knew the answer.
“No,” Eric admitted. He would have at least rinsed out the empties like Kyle was doing. He hated mess. It was something his teammates had been teasing him about for years, but Eric wondered why Kyle had been able to guess it so quickly about him. Probably from seeing his kitchen. Or maybe Eric obviously presented as the fussy neat freak he was.
“By the way,” Kyle said as they entered the kitchen, “if I haven’t mentioned it already, your house is incredible.”
“Thank you. I’m very happy with it.”
“Is there a rooftop terrace?”
“Yes.”
“Goddamn you.”
Eric laughed. “Sorry. You’re welcome to use it any time.” He mentally kicked himself for saying something so weird, but Kyle smiled.
“Maybe I’ll wait until spring.”
“Right. Yeah.”
Kyle pushed up his sleeves and began rinsing the bottles out in Eric’s sink, which Eric could not allow. “Really,” he said, placing a hand on Kyle’s arm. “I can do this later.”
Kyle looked at Eric’s hand, and then met Eric’s eyes. “Later when? It’s
almost two in the morning.”
“Exactly. You should go home to bed.”
“I’m at work past two most nights,” Kyle said. “This is nothing. Let me help.”
Eric surrendered and stood there awkwardly, watching Kyle work with his head full of thoughts that he knew he shouldn’t say out loud. He chose one of the safest ones. “It was nice spending time with you tonight. I’m glad you came.”
Kyle didn’t look up from the sink. “I almost didn’t.”
“Why?”
He saw Kyle’s shoulders tense, and he thought he wouldn’t answer, but he said, “I think you know why.”
Eric did have some idea, though he was surprised Kyle was bringing it up. “Because of Kip. And Scott.”
“I’m pretty fucking obvious, I know. And pathetic.” He set the last of the bottles on the counter and turned, bracing himself with both hands on the edge of the sink behind his back. “Anyway. I need to get over it. I mean, I
am getting over it.”
“I’m sorry.”
Kyle laughed without any humor. “You know what the most ridiculous part is? Kip was supposed to be the end of me having crushes on inappropriate men. He was supposed to be a good choice.”
“Inappropriate men?”
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t be talking about this with you. Or anyone. It’s fine. Forget I said anything.”
“No, I—” Eric’s hand found itself back on Kyle’s arm. “I want to listen.
If you want to talk.”
“I’m way too sober for that.”
Eric studied his face. “You are sober, aren’t you? You didn’t drink
tonight?”
Kyle shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”
The possibility that Kyle had abstained because Eric didn’t drink warmed him. But maybe Kyle truly hadn’t felt like it and Eric shouldn’t read any more into it. “Why don’t I get us both some water, and we can sit in the
living room for a bit?”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, Kyle was wedged into the corner of a sectional sofa, and Eric was sitting a safe, platonic distance away. Kyle took a sip of his water and said, “So what do you want to know?”
There were a lot of careful, easy questions Eric could have asked. Ones that wouldn’t have been completely selfish. But what he asked was, “Is Kip not the type of man you’re normally attracted to?”
Kyle’s eyebrows raised over the frames of his glasses, and his lips quirked up. “No. Not usually. I mean, I don’t have a strict type, but...”
Eric shifted to the edge of his sofa cushion. “But?”
“I have a bit of a weakness for...older men.”
He swallowed. “How much older?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe forty. Or”—Kyle smiled mischievously at him —“forty-one.”
Eric’s dick arrived to the party at that moment. Late, but very keen to celebrate his birthday. He knew he should reply to Kyle, but his head had gone fuzzy.
Kyle waved a hand. “Don’t take me too seriously when I flirt. It’s basically a defense mechanism for me.”
“Defense,” Eric repeated thickly. “Right.” He shook away some of the haze of lust. “Of course. I know you’re not serious.”
“Good. But let me know if I ever make you uncomfortable, please. I really don’t want to do that.”
“I’ll tell you.” Uncomfortable was one way of putting it. Although, whether he was uncomfortable from being unsure of how to respond to Kyle’s suggestive remarks, or if it was from the sudden tightness of his jeans, it was hard to say. Did Kyle know that Eric was attracted to men?
Was it as obvious to him as Eric’s inability to leave his basement a mess?
“You are gorgeous, though,” Kyle said easily. “If you didn’t know that.”
“Thank you.” Return the compliment, Eric! Or should he? Would that only make things more weird? It was probably safer if the flirting was only one sided. But he had to say something, so he said, “I like your glasses.”
Kyle laughed. “As in you want to buy a pair for yourself, or as in you want to see me wearing nothing but them?” Before Eric could respond, Kyle quickly said, “Sorry. That was too much.”
Eric crossed his legs as casually as possible as he fought to banish the mental image of Kyle wearing only his glasses. Maybe he would be stretched elegantly across Eric’s bed, his back arching as Eric trailed kisses
up the inside of his thigh...
“I’m trying to be anyway,” Kyle said.
Trying to be? Trying to be what? Oh god, Eric had completely missed everything that Kyle had just said.
“Trying to be, um...pardon?” Eric said elegantly.
Kyle grinned. “Good. Or smart. Trying not to date creeps.”
“Creeps?” Anger flared inside of Eric at the thought of a man hurting Kyle. “How do you mean?”
“Oh, you know. Secretly married. Closeted and staying there.
Manipulative and selfish. Any combination of those things. That’s my type,
apparently.”
That didn’t sound like the sort of man Kyle should be with at all. Kyle should be with someone who cherished every one of his playful smiles and devilish winks. Who appreciated how smart Kyle was, and how easy he was to talk to. “Those guys sound like assholes.”
“Yeah, well.” Kyle pulled his knees up and rested his tilted head on them.
“You wanna hear something funny? I thought you were going to be one of
them.”
“One of them? What do you mean?”
“I thought you were married. Because of the ring. And I thought you were...well. It doesn’t matter.”
“Thought I was what?” Dammit. The ring. Carter was right. He should have taken it off ages ago.
“I probably project it on every handsome older man now, but I thought you were another closeted married man who was looking to have a little secret fun with the gay boy.”
Eric’s stomach clenched at the thought. “I would never—that’s—”
“I know. I was wrong. I get it. Like I said, I project. But you really do seem like a great guy, and I’d like to be friends.”
Friends. “I’d like that too.” It wasn’t a lie. Eric did like talking to Kyle, and he’d love to go to some galleries with him. Maybe share some meals.
Maybe— Kyle yawned then, and Eric was reminded of the late hour. And of the fact that Kyle lived all the way in Chelsea.
“You should stay here tonight,” Eric said. It was an obvious offer and he
should have made it before now.
“Oh no. I can get a cab.”
“Stay. I have two guest rooms. I’ll even make coffee in the morning.”
Kyle lifted his head off his knees. “That is very tempting.”
“I’ve got extra toothbrushes and everything. I have nowhere to be in the morning. You can sleep as late as you like.”
Kyle yawned again, then laughed. “All right. You win.”
Eric beamed, far too happy about this development. He stood and offered Kyle his hand, a natural gesture that he would offer one of his teammates on the ice or at the gym. But when Kyle took his hand, suddenly nothing about it seemed natural or familiar. Kyle’s fingers were cold, probably from rinsing out the beer bottles, and his skin was rougher than Eric had been
expecting. He pulled Kyle to his feet, and then Kyle’s face was inches away from Eric’s own. Their chests were almost brushing against each other as Kyle gazed at him with sleepy blue eyes.
Eric was still holding his hand.
“I’ll, um. I’ll show you your room. I can lend you some pajama pants, if you like.”
Kyle brushed his thumb over Eric’s knuckles, then released his hand.
“Thanks.”
Eric turned away before he did something unforgivable, like invite Kyle to share his own bed. He led Kyle to the bedroom that was on the same floor as the kitchen. It was Eric’s favorite of the two guest rooms.
“Oh wow,” Kyle said when Eric turned on the bedside lamp. The room was at the front of the house, and there was a large window that looked to the street. The wall with the window was exposed brick, which Eric loved, and the rest of the walls were stark white, as was the bedding, the armchair in the corner, and the rug. Above the bed’s light-stained maple headboard hung a large framed black-and-white photograph of a fog-laden rocky beach.
“There’s a white noise machine,” Eric said, gesturing to the small device that sat beside the lamp. “If you need it.”
“I might,” Kyle said. “I’ve been in the city for over six years and I still can’t quite block out the noise at night.”
“Where’s home?”
“Vermont. Or, it was home, anyway.”
Eric didn’t like the sound of that, but he also knew that three in the morning wasn’t the time to be getting into sad stories. So he just said, “I love Vermont.”
“Me too. This photograph is beautiful. Do you know where this is?”
“Wales.” Eric hesitated a moment, then said, “I took it.”
Kyle’s head whipped around, his eyes wide under his glasses. “You took that?”
“I dabble. I’m not a professional by any stretch.”
“You could be. Holy shit.” He winked. “What other talents are you hiding?”
Heat crept up Eric’s neck. Kyle was not making it easy to think pure thoughts.
“Sorry,” Kyle said. “That was the last one. I promise. I’m just sleepy and silly. And I haven’t had sex in forever.”
“Right. No problem,” Eric said stiffly. “I’ll go get you those pajamas.
And a toothbrush. Do you need anything else?”
“Can’t think of anything.”
Eric left quickly. He did not like how easily flustered he got in Kyle’s company. In his bedroom, he took a moment to compose himself, then he grabbed his softest pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt before going to the bathroom to find a new toothbrush and some toothpaste. When he returned to Kyle’s room, he nearly dropped everything he was carrying.
Kyle was sprawled out on the bed, shirtless with the button of his jeans unfastened. His body was lean and toned—the body of an athlete who was built for speed.
Kyle propped himself up on his elbows, his abs flexing as he curled up to face Eric. “Is this duvet cover linen?”
“Yes,” Eric said weakly. “The sheets are too.”
Kyle fell back on the bed and let out a long, guttural moan of pleasure that made Eric lower the bundle in his hands so it covered his crotch.
“Fuuuuck. And these pillows,” Kyle continued, oblivious to the alarming spike in Eric’s arousal. “I am so fucking horny for this bed.”
Oh, come on, universe. Not fair.
“I have pajamas. And a toothbrush. I’ll just...” Well, Eric couldn’t hand them to him. Not with his erection trying to bust through his pants. “I’ll leave them here.” He set them on the chair in the corner and turned quickly
toward the door. “Goodnight.”
“Hey,” Kyle said.
Eric paused, but he kept his back to Kyle. “Yes?”
“It was a good party. Everyone had fun.”
“You think?” Eric turned his head to the side so he wasn’t completely shutting Kyle out.
“Definitely. I watch people drinking and having fun several times a week at work. I’m an expert on who’s having a good time and who isn’t. The party was a hit.”
“That’s good to hear.” He stood for another moment, waiting to see if Kyle had anything more to say, then said, “Sleep well.”
“I am going to sleep so hard in this bed.”
Eric smiled to himself and pulled the door closed behind him. When it was almost shut, he heard Kyle say, “Happy birthday.”
Eric had his jeans unfastened before he’d even reached his bedroom on the top floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this desperate to jerk off.
The moment he closed his bedroom door behind him, his jeans hit the floor with the loud clatter of his belt. He shoved his hand into his briefs and groaned so loudly when he gripped his cock that he shoved the knuckles of his free hand into his mouth to muffle the noise. He fell on his bed and slid his briefs down to his ankles, kicking them away as he yanked his shirt off and threw it to the floor.
Eric had never directly—or indirectly—compared his masturbation techniques to another man’s, but he assumed he was in the top percentile for efficiency. Eric was efficient in all things; efficient, disciplined, and practiced. He had jerking off down to a science.
He wondered if Kyle was stroking himself too. If at this moment he was naked and writhing on Eric’s linen bed sheets, his long, work-rough fingers working a cock that Eric could only imagine. And god, could he imagine it.
Long and beautiful and jutting out from pubic hair that was the same dark blond as the hair that had trailed into the waistband of his jeans. Kyle’s abs clenching and flexing as he got closer to the edge. As he got himself to where Eric was right now, teetering on the brink.
If Kyle was jerking off too, was he thinking about Eric? Was he about to come with Eric’s name on his lips like Eric was about to— “Fuck. Kyle. Please.” Eric whispered the words as he arched and came all over his stomach.
When it was over, when the last rush of pleasure had left his body and Eric was left holding his softening dick with semen drying on his skin, shame set in. What the fuck was he doing? He was a dirty old man jerking off to thoughts of the lovely young man who’d been kind enough to help him clean up after his party. Barely more than an acquaintance. A possible
new friend.
Eric was pathetic.
But he was definitely attracted to men. His bisexuality felt a whole lot less theoretical, even just allowing himself to fantasize about another man.
A specific other man. A man who was sleeping two floors below Eric right
now. Wearing Eric’s pajamas.
Unless he was sleeping naked.
Oh god.
Eric took a few long, slow breaths and then began to reason this thing out. No one was getting hurt here. And Kyle had to know that his flirtations would have an effect on Eric. Assuming that Kyle knew Eric was attracted to him—attracted to men.
Was it a problem if he did know? Eric had always assumed it was something that people wouldn’t guess about him, but he’d never been faced with a man he’d wanted as much as Kyle. Maybe his desire was plain as day when he was talking to him. It was something to think about, for sure.
Eric dragged himself into the bathroom and cleaned himself quickly. He went to his walk-in closet and found his second-softest pajama pants, enjoying the caress of bamboo as he pulled them on. The slick fabric felt cool against his heated skin.
When he got into bed, he realized how exhausted he was. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of winter-blue eyes dancing behind glasses, calloused hands, and disheveled corn silk hair.