As Dylan set the bucket of used motor oil aside, Alec finally worked up the courage to ask the question that prompted today’s visit. “Tomorrow I’m planning on having a beer at Danny’s Suds and Sports and catching the football game on TV. You want to come along?”
Alec hated that he held his breath while waiting for an answer. One of the few things he and Tyler had shared outside of work had been college football. Alec considered himself a serious fan. Tyler maintained an interest as well, enough to humor Alec, anyway. And with the start of the season tomorrow night, the first since their breakup, he couldn’t stomach the thought of watching the game alone.
Christ, he hated rattling around an empty home.
“When is the game?” Dylan asked.
Dylan stood and placed the bucket of old oil on a table before returning to kneel by the motorcycle, this time right at Alec’s feet. The scent of spicy soap and musky man and motorcycle hit, reminding Alec of Dylan’s intent to pose as his new boyfriend. Alec’s nervous system sparked, his thoughts stumbling.
“Seven o’clock,” Alec said.
“College or pro?”
“College.”
“Which team?”
Alec absently studied the sweat staining the collar of Dylan’s T-shirt and the smudge of motor oil on the back of his neck, a result of the messy process and the state of Dylan’s hands.
“College Bay University,” Alec said.
“The Tigers?” Dylan winced. “Somehow, I never pictured you as a glutton for punishment.”
“I know,” Alec said, a smile overtaking his face. “But they’re local. Besides, I like cheering for the underdog.”
“If you support the Tigers, you must get off on cheering for the losing team as well.” Dylan leaned back on his heels, bringing him closer to Alec’s legs, and sent him pointed look.
Unfortunately, now those green eyes gazed up at him from a position that brought to mind all sorts of scenarios involving Dylan on his knees, and Alec’s body went still. His traitorous mind pictured sweat-slicked arms and messy fingers reaching out to cup Alec’s crotch. Unzipping his zipper…
And before Alec could stop them, more graphic visions barreled past. Dylan’s callused hands stroking Alec’s cock. That pink tongue circling his head. Dylan’s mouth stretched wide around him, hot and slick and taking him deep. Alec gripping that grease-stained neck as he thrust hard, coming in the back of Dylan’s throat.
Holy shit.
Heart thudding painfully, Alec gave a single shake of his head and forced the images from his mind.
Alec didn’t trust himself to date just yet. And he’d be crazy to get involved with someone looking for nothing more than a quick fuck. Alec had never been the one-night-stand type, a sure route to frustration and heartbreak. But fantasizing about an unattainable straight man?
The epitome of ludicrous.
Dylan gave a sharp nod. “Okay. I’ll come.”
Alec ignored the thrill jutting through his veins at Dylan’s unintentional double entendre.
“Good.” Alec cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’ll go dump the bucket.”
He picked up the pail and headed for the used-oil barrel, feeling slightly unsteady.
So far he’d had no trouble admiring Dylan’s drool-worthy attributes with an almost detached, clinical air, like one did of someone completely out of reach. But time had changed things. Clearly there was more to Dylan’s rough-and-tumble attitude and sharp tongue than Alec first appreciated, namely learning his bark lacked serious bite. Not to mention his dedication to his friend’s memory.
Alec bit back a sigh. Enjoying his time with Dylan was fine. Admiring his loyalty was good too. And Alec felt no shame recognizing that the man brought a new level of standards to the phrase “sex on two legs.”
But there was something slightly alarming the way Dylan, without even trying, pressed a hidden nerve inside Alec. A nerve he hadn’t known existed. Dylan had unlocked a sweaty, tough-guy fantasy Alec had been better off not knowing he harbored.
And now, when he looked into Dylan’s gaze, Alec suddenly longed to see heat in those green eyes as they peered down at him from a very inappropriate position.
Christ. And he’d thought his life couldn’t get any more screwed up.
~~~***~~~
Packed, the sports bar hummed with fans hoping against hope their team could pull off the impossible and actually win a game. And if someone had told Dylan he’d wind up hanging out with a guy who knew every statistical fact about the Tigers, he’d have sworn he needed to get a life.
Alec, however, had no shame whatsoever as he leaned closer to Dylan to be heard. “Their quarterback had a 135 passing efficiency rating last season, up from 129 the year before.”
“Your knowledge would be more impressive if it included the stats of a winning team.”
Alec clearly didn’t care. “So who’s your favorite?”
“Whoever’s the best bet on the TV set.”
“You’re a love-the-one-you’re-with kind of guy.”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s sad, Dylan,” Alec said with mock sympathy. “Very sad.”