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does that have to do with me taking care of myself, or everyone being clued in?”
“Not that, the kid remark. It’s like I have to prove to you over and over that I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You’ll always be a kid to me,” Wyatt countered.
“Well, pardon me, but that sucks.”
Wyatt couldn’t help but grin. “Does it?”
“Yeah. There’s a whole lot of guy over here waiting for you to open up if you’d just give me a shot.”
He could hear the steady tread of Oak taking stairs.
“Go to your balcony,” Oak said.
Wyatt wondered if there’d be a replay of the scene on Tuesday. Rather Shakespearean if you asked him.
“I see you,” Oak said. “I’m in the window of the back room.”
Wyatt moved over a little more. Oak had turned on a light in the guest room. He waved a little, but it was too far to see more than his posture and the color of his clothes from mid thigh up. Wyatt waved back.
“It’s a crush,” Wyatt told him. “It’ll pass, and it should. Things would be tricky at work and with your parents otherwise.”
“I can deal with my parents and with work, as long as I know I’ve got you after hours,” Oak insisted.
“I’m flattered, but it’s not going to happen. It just isn’t.”
“Because you don’t want to or because you’re afraid to?”
“It doesn’t matter why.”
“It matters to me.” Oak put a fist on his hip, as though he were in a long distance alpha male standoff with Wyatt. “It’s the difference between you not being interested in me, and you being interested but worried about the fallout.”
Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s exactly that simple. You’re the one complicating it. Look, do you like me, or don’t you?”
“Of course I like you. You’re a big part of my history,” Wyatt defended.
“Dissembling?” Oak scoffed. “Do you want me? Does the idea of getting down and dirty with me raise your… flag ?”
Wyatt walked to the rail and leaned on it as he tried to make his eyes read the expression on the other man’s face even though it wasn’t possible.
“If you were a stranger whose family I didn’t know yet, who I didn’t see every day at work, I’d want to get to know you. Intimately,” he confessed, the words dragged unwillingly and rough from him.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Oak murmured.
The figure in the window rubbed a hand up and down its torso. “Good night, captain. I’ll be thinking about you tonight.”
The line went dead. Wyatt kept watching as Oak continued to rub his chest and belly with slow care. Finally he turned away from the window and the room went dark, leaving Wyatt to imagine all kinds of naughty things that made his cock hard.
He left the balcony and shut off the lights as he dropped to the couch where Oak had sat on Tuesday. He dragged his hand up and down his shirt the way he’d watched him at the window. Leaning back, Wyatt closed his eyes, pretending the hand wasn’t his, but Oak’s.
He groaned, slipped his hand under his shirt to drag it over his tight abs and the light sprinkling of chest hair, all the way to his waist band where the wiry hairs disappeared. He imagined Oak doing the same thing—touching, wanting him .
Wyatt’s dick throbbed. He opened his button and fly, sliding his pants and shorts down his thighs. He pulled his shirt up and over his head, enjoying the unhindered view of his naked chest and full, weeping shaft.
He pinched and twisted his nipple, reaching down to cup his balls as he did so. Dragging his fingers back and forth from taint to sac, he teased the embers of anticipation to a greedy flame. He dropped his head back, gasping as he urged himself on.
Wyatt dragged his thumb up the underside of his cock. Capturing it in his fist, he began a slow pull. He twisted his wrist as he got to the head and slicked a finger over the top. He imagined Oak, his mouth parted over the tip, waiting to take his cum. His eyes would be clenched, his golden skin