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He makes a sound that’s part laugh, part groan. “You’re not right, V.”
“Who wants to be right? I, for one, would rather be a little fucking wrong. Better to be wrong with the right person than right with the wrong one.”
In the dark, I think I see him shake his head. “You’re crazy, Vance.”
“Crazy for you.”
He lets out a long breath, like a muted sigh. “I wish I was with you.”
“Let’s plug our phones in, and we’ll stay on all night. What do you think?”
“I’m sorry I’m like this.”
“You don’t know how much I care about you. Or you’d never be.”
He doesn’t say he cares for me, too. But the next morning, when I get to work, my atrium is filled with roses.* * *LukeI give my talk on member retention feeling like I’m in a fugue. When I’m finished, I take my seat with the Evermore group in the audience, holding my phone near my chest so I can read his texts with my hands cupped around it.
The first one’s just a line of red hearts.
The next says, Damn, man.
I check the timestamps. A minute after that, he said, No one’s ever done this for me. Assuming it was you. ;)
Nope, I text, angling the screen away from Ansley. I’m smirking as Pearl, seated on the row in of us, catches my eye.
Then shouldn’t it be more like What are you talking about Vance? Done WHAT for you?
I press my lips flat to hide a sly smile. What are you talking about Vance?
I text immediately after, because I don’t want to mess with his head. I hope you’re not allergic. That part was a gamble.
Far from.
I see the symbol that tells me he’s typing. Then it disappears. It comes back…and disappears.
Wish you were wearing our toy when you had to move them off the scaffolding, I say.
They put them on the floor all around ;)
You know I’ll be home tonight…
Is that a threat, he asks.
You know it’s a promise.
I put the phone away, and Pearl’s eyes catch mine. Something tightens in my stomach. I rub my lips together again, getting rid of my smile. It’s all business for the rest of the day—a lot of procedural presentations and number crunching; Ansley would have come alone if not for my guest talk—and I don’t let myself text more unless I’m in the men’s room.
Next time I duck into there, I find he’s sent three.
Maybe it’s your turn.
Whaddaya say, preacher boy?
I’d love to turn it on while you’re at your desk.
I laugh, and it echoes through the empty men’s room. I don’t think so, Rayne.
You don’t have to think. That won’t be required.
My dick is hard now. I lean a shoulder on the stall’s wall and rub myself through my pants.
My impudent artist.
And the pervert pastor. What do you think? Sounds like a good story.
One of the great ones.
He texts me a red heart. I’m smirking as I send a black one—just to mess with him a little.
What the fuck is that thing? He sends a skull and bones symbol.
Black is a viable color.
You’re twisted, preacher.
You’ll find out.
I’m not even making sense. I grin up at the ceiling.
I’ve got to go. Lots more brain-numbing talks to sit through. Pearl caught me smirking at the phone a little earlier. Can’t have that.
Someday soon, she’ll catch you doing more than that at your desk.
Now I’ll have to jerk off before leaving the stall.
You want it, he says. C’mon, admit it.
You’ve got me hard now. I can’t leave the bathroom this way.
God, I’d love to be inside you. I love what you do to me, but I’m a switch, remember?
How could I forget, Rayne?
I’m Rayne now. I’ve lost the Mr.?
I unzip my pants…take out my stiff cock…give it a long, squeezing stroke.
You’re just Rayne now. Yes.
Rayne belongs in the Sky. You realize that, right?
I’m still grinning when I wash my hands and walk out of the men’s room. I’ll show him tomorrow. Impudent artist bottoms are the ones I most like filling.18LukeI go to him the moment that I’m home and have him in his bedroom, where the air hangs heavy with the scent of roses. We fall asleep wrapped in each other. I wake him at 4 AM with my fingers in his bottom.
“Fuck,” he groans. But he lifts his hips as my fingers push cool lube into him.
“Oh yes.”
He’s still more asleep than not, but he moans as I seat the plug. Then he starts to rock himself against the mattress. His arm wraps around his pillow.
“Shit…”
I love how his voice is husky with sleep. I should go—we have an early morning elders meeting at 6:15 today—but I can’t resist delving beneath the covers again, running my hand up his leg until I brush his warm, full sac. I tease him there, then reach beneath him, grasping for his erection. So hard. Just brushing his long cock has me hard as well. He lifts his hips, giving me the clearance to work my way up his shaft.
