Dan & Tyler 2 - Wintergreen (10 page)

He stood and walked to the bedroom window. The sleet of the morning had melted under a watery sun that was now obscured by clouds. It was a March of storms and grayness, and Tyler felt like a fly trapped in a bottle, buzzing angrily at the glass. He wanted to take Dan and run, not from anything, except perhaps the lousy weather, but
to
something -- to the sun, to a space of time together, to a future.

They should have been planning their travels in these dreary, dismal months. Hell, given what the winter had turned into -- a slushy, icy mess instead of white snow, deep and crisp and even, like the carol -- they could have moved their departure date up and started with Australia, chasing the summer.

"I just had to let Cole push my buttons," he said aloud, his words echoing in the room, quiet except for the ever-present hum of the computer. "That persuasive, manipulative son of a bitch…"

He turned away from the window, intending to resume work even if the thought of sitting in the chair was deeply unappealing, and then froze as he heard an approaching vehicle, only relaxing when he recognized it. His truck; he'd know the sound of its engine anywhere. Dan was back a lot sooner than Tyler had expected him to be, far too soon for him to have gotten the mad out of his system, and Tyler braced himself for the argument that would probably begin as soon as Dan walked through the door.

Dan parked the truck and jumped out, showing no signs of the slouched apathy of past weeks. He'd had a haircut, Tyler noted with some surprise as Dan got closer to the house, the dark hair framing his face instead of obscuring it, and a lot shorter. He wasn't smiling, but he was carrying a take-out bag from the deli in town that looked too full for just one lunch. If it was a peace offering, Tyler was more than ready to accept it, as long as it didn't come with a side-order of nagging and recriminations.
He saved what he'd been working on with a click and turned the computer off with two more, deciding that he'd eat an early lunch with Dan at the table, instead of a solitary snack as he worked. That concession, that break in routine, might not match up to a hot sandwich from Howie's Grill, but it was all that he had to offer in the way of a truce.

Tyler left the bedroom as Dan walked into the cabin, shutting the cabin door behind him against a rain-speckled gust of wind at the same time that Tyler pulled the bedroom door closed.

 

Dan eyed Tyler thoughtfully, no sign of hostility on his face. "You're not working."

Tyler nodded at the bag Dan carried, his mouth watering as he got a whiff of its contents. Whatever had started out hot in there would be lukewarm after the ride from town, but it still smelled ambrosial, even if he couldn't pin down what it was. Roast beef subs with a side of Howie's homemade potato wedges, maybe. Or the veggie burger made with a thick, meaty slice of Portobello mushroom, not a dried-up attempt to mimic a real burger, topped with a generous dollop of guacamole, sharp and tangy red onion, a juicy piece of tomato… He was suddenly starving, with a fierce yearning for an ice-cold beer to wash it down with, and Dan for dessert. "I saw what you were carrying. Any of that for me?"

"Maybe." Dan didn't say it with a flirting, mischievous look up through his lashes, just a straightforward stare, but it still felt like foreplay to Tyler. "It's going to cost you, though."

 

"Oh, yeah?" Tyler moved closer. Dan had taught him how to flirt, up to a point, at least. Tyler didn't think that he'd ever do it naturally. Just not his style. "How much?"

 

Dan pursed his lips, which always looked like an invitation to kiss them to Tyler. "I was thinking that you'd need some persuading to eat lunch with me."

 

"I won't."

 

Tyler made a grab for the bag, and Dan tucked it behind his back swiftly. "Back off," he warned. "I had this plan if you turned me down."

"I just told you that you didn't need it," Tyler growled, enjoying the feeling of being playful for once, not deadly, icily serious. He was grateful that they seemed to have skipped over the tension of earlier without an inquest. "Forget the plan and hand over the food."

"It was a good plan," Dan said severely. "I liked it."

 

Tyler gave a long-suffering sigh. "Tell me what you were going to do, boy."

Dan gave him a narrow-eyed, speculative look with enough heat in it to make the sandwiches sizzle in their bag. "I was going to knock you out, strip you down, and tie you up." The only way Dan could get the jump on him would be if Tyler was falling down drunk, already unconscious, or dead, but it didn't seem like the right time to point that out. Not when the smell of the food wasn't what was making Tyler's mouth water anymore.

"And what comes after that, when I wake up mad as hell with a headache?"

 

"You find me sucking your dick, nice and slow," Dan said, and now there was a glint of comehither in his eyes. "Think you'd stay mad for long?"

Tyler had been woken that way by Dan more than once, and the memories slammed into him like fists, leaving him breathless. Dan never spoke -- barely even flicked him a glance -- just lapped and licked and sucked languidly, his eyes closed, until Tyler groaned and clutched at his hair or shoulders imploringly, needing more and not getting it until Dan was good and ready. "Not long," he admitted. "You know, I'm not all that hungry after all." Before the anticipatory sparkle in Dan's eyes could go out, he added, "But you can still get a tip for delivering it."

"A tip, huh?" Dan gave it some consideration, drawing out the suspense. "Okay."

 

Tyler reached out and slid his hand though Dan's hair, gathering it and letting the clean, silky strands slip over his fingers. "You got your hair cut."

 

Dan blinked, as if surprised by the change of subject. "Yeah. I wanted to kill some time and let my breakfast settle--"

 

"You didn't eat any." And he'd worried about that until he'd realized what he was doing and stopped.

 

"I had pancakes with Anne."

 

"Oh," Tyler said blankly. The idea of them socializing without him was disconcerting for some reason. "At her house?"

"No, the café. She was off work and planning this spa day." Dan chuckled. "She asked me to tag along, but it's not really my thing, you know? But my hair needed trimming, and there was nothing else to do, so I went into the Snip and Curl and told them to do their worst."

Tyler sniffed Dan's hair. It didn't smell the way it normally did, and he didn't like that. He flashed on Dan leaning back over a sink, hot water running down, drenching his hair dark and heavy, Dan's eyes closed as fingers massaged his head and made him sigh and arch into the touch… Fuck, he was jealous of a hairdresser now?

"What is it?"

Dan saw too much, sometimes. Tyler hesitated, feeling ridiculous, and then said gruffly, "I just -someone touching you when I haven't -- I just -- shit, it's stupid. Ignore me."
His ears felt hot with embarrassment. He'd just about accepted that Dan meant a lot to him, but sometimes the depth of his feelings left him floundering, panicking as he lost his self-sufficiency. Dan made him vulnerable, and that was a scary situation for someone like him, who'd spent his life exploiting weaknesses

"You were jealous?" Dan shook his head, looking stunned rather than amused. "Oh, man. That's not stupid, it's insane. Jealous of
Maggie
?"

 

Maggie was in her late sixties, a livewire with hair as traffic-stopping red as she could get it. Short and skinny as she was, the effect was one of a lit matchstick.

"You might have put yourself into Steve -- sorry,
Stefan's
hands," Tyler said with as much dignity as he could summon. Stefan was a prodigal son who'd come back to Carlyle at Christmas after training as a stylist for a few years in New York. He had a superficial city gloss and hair that had left its original mousy brown several bleach jobs behind. His brown eyes tended to be speculative when they studied Dan, something that bugged the hell out of Tyler.

Dan buried his head in Tyler's shoulder, shaking with laughter now. "Oh, he tried to get me, but Maggie headed him off and made him trim this little girl's bangs instead. She was wriggling so much that it ended up looking like nothing on earth, so she burst into tears and her mom laid into Stefan. It was kinda funny."

"Screaming kids and yelling moms? It sounds like hell," Tyler said. He went to a barber shop to get his hair cut, a peaceful place with an all-male staff and clientele. There wasn't a glossy magazine in sight and no conversation unless the customer initiated it. Maggie, according to Anne, never stopped chatting, although she knew every scrap of gossip in the town, which meant that she had to listen to other people talk at least some of the time.

"So, do you like it?" Dan asked.

Tyler had never been asked to give an opinion on someone's haircut before, but he leaned back and gave Dan an appraising look. "More of your face, less of your hair." He shrugged. "It looks fine."

"I told Maggie to make me look so good I'd get jumped before I was through the door."

 

"Tell me you're joking," Tyler said with a groan that wasn't entirely put on. "Tell me you didn't discuss our sex life with Maggie Lawson and Stefan listening."

"I told her I was so desperate to get laid I'd have it shaved off if she thought it'd do the trick," Dan continued remorselessly. "And Stefan said that he'd be happy to help me out if it didn't. So I gave him my number and said--"

"Enough," Tyler growled, and shut Dan up with a kiss that he discovered he couldn't break away from, because God, how long had it been and what kind of a fool was he anyway? "You want fucking against the wall?" he said, his lips on Dan's, brushing the words over Dan's mouth like paint onto canvas. "Want bending over the couch? You got me. I'm here."

"No," Dan said, tilting his head back, his chin rising -- and maybe they weren't done fighting yet, because the challenge in Dan's eyes and voice was as loud as swords clashing. "I want
you
bent over, begging me to do you. I want you showing me how very fucking sorry you are for being an asshole the last few weeks."

Giving in and groveling weren't habits Tyler ever intended to acquire, but he'd never seen getting fucked as being either of those things. Dan sliding home, control shredding, just about flying to pieces with every thrust, was something that Tyler loved watching if he was in a position to see it, and if he wasn't, well, he could hear Dan's gasped breaths and fervent babbling just fine.

"You can have that," Tyler said without hesitation, and nodded at the bedroom door. "In there?"

 

Dan shook his head. "You've spent enough time in there."

True enough. Tyler considered the options. There was a fire burning low in the grate, and the room was warm enough that he didn't mind stripping off, but the way his back felt, he didn't think that he'd really enjoy being bent in half over the couch. Leaning on the seat of it with Dan behind him would work okay, though.

"Get what you need," he said, and pulled his shirt over his head without bothering to undo more than a button or two.

It was good. It usually was, but this felt better, after the initial awkwardness of reconnecting physically and emotionally was over. The velvet of the couch rubbed against Tyler's arms and chest as Dan's lube-slick finger pushed slowly inside him, two different sensations, both equally vivid. His skin felt as if it was waking up after a long sleep, thawing after being chilled to numbness. Dan didn't hurry, though Tyler could feel the damp-tipped tap and nudge of Dan's cock against the back of his thigh now and then. Dan was hard, needy, but what he seemed to want was Tyler's presence, rather than a slam-bang fuck to bleed off built-up horniness.

Tyler had been naked and kneeling in front of the couch when Dan had returned from the bathroom, condom and lube bottle in his hand. Dan had paused, looked Tyler over, and nodded approval of both position and location, so Tyler had leaned forward and pillowed his head on his folded arms, legs spread, ass up, waiting. He owed Dan this acquiescence, and exhausted as he was from the stress he'd been under, it was a relief to be asked to do nothing more than respond to what Dan did to him. Not passive, no; he gave Dan as much as he could. Every moan, every murmur that rose to his lips was voiced, not stifled, but this was Dan's show; Tyler wasn't planning to initiate anything.

It wouldn't have been easy to do much anyway, positioned like this, but he kept his hands where they were instead of reaching back to caress Dan, and he didn't turn his head to kiss Dan until Dan's mouth found him, Dan's bare body fitting against his like a shadow.
"Missed you," Dan whispered into Tyler's hair as his finger slid and twisted; in and out, intrusive and welcome, too much and not enough. "Missed you so fucking much."

Tyler could have told Dan that he'd been right there, but it would have been an evasion at best. He'd slept next to Dan, and spent the hours of the day a few yards away, but they hadn't been together. Walking in parallel lines, out of arm's reach, wasn't what Dan wanted, and by now, neither did Tyler.

Keeping that single finger as deep as it would go, Dan kissed his way across Tyler's shoulders, butterfly-wing brushes of his lips changing to firm, emphatically stamped kisses that left a wet, burning sting on Tyler's skin, fading fast, only to be rekindled an inch lower. Tyler had been hard from the moment he'd stood, naked, and heard the click of the bathroom cabinet door as Dan opened it in search of supplies. The swift, dizzying rush of blood to his cock had brought him to his knees, needing to be ready for Dan, with an urge to submit that was as foreign to him as his earlier flash of jealousy had been. It brought home to him just how off-balance he was, but dealing with that would have to wait until later. He wasn't in the mood to talk or think beyond a husky "God -- please -- please, Dan," that brought him a choked groan and a tongue tracing a pattern down the curve of his spine.

The warmth of Dan's body close to his was replaced by cool, empty air, and it took an effort of will not to glance back, but he waited patiently and felt the licked skin on his spine prickle as it dried.

Dan's free hand came to rest on Tyler's ass, his fingers spread and sliding into the crease, then opening Tyler wider. Tyler thought about what Dan could see: his finger disappearing into the tight clench of Tyler's hole, the pale, exposed skin of the cleft, and the bunched sway of Tyler's balls. Not pretty, maybe, but he'd seen Dan like that, and it had left him breathless with the intimacy of it.