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Chris snorted at that, picking up the measuring tape. "Okay. But if I keep asking you questions, you're not going to start acting like a know-it-all, are you?"
Geoff grinned at him. "I thought you said I already act that way."
"Yeah, you do. I just don't want it to get any worse, or I'll have to kill you and grind you up for fertilizer."
"Fair enough."
They went back to work then. Measuring and cutting, switching back and forth between favorite radio stations. Drinking coffee. They'd been friends so long, they could talk or not talk and still be comfortable with each other. Topics were random. Work stuff, the mower the neighbor down the street was using. They grinned about the cashier at Hardee's who Geoff said was still nursing a hangover from the previous night.
It was their usual kind of banter, but as they moved through the tasks of building the bench, Chris noticed the personal space boundary wasn't nearly as routine. Geoff's body brushed his several times and, when Chris leaned over the workbench to measure something, Geoff's hand passed over his back and the curve of his flank before he moved on, leaving Chris with a distracted mind and a pencil mark a good inch off of where it needed to be.
When he caught Geoff's grin, he scowled and redrew the mark. Geoff picked up the skill saw and Chris backed off to let him do the cut. He watched Geoff focus on what he was doing through the safety glasses, the sure and steady progression of the blade. They'd worked construction jobs in college together, and Geoff was as handy as Chris with the tools of the trade. "Shame you're a lawyer," Chris commented as Geoff set the saw aside. "You'd be a hell of a framer."
> "Yeah, because that pays so much better," Geoff said dryly.
"If you'd become a framer, you wouldn't have a butt load of school loans to pay off and you'd work way more flexible hours." Chris sat on a stool and took a drink from the bottled water he'd brought out. At the time, Geoff had said he didn't want one, but Chris still wiped the top and offered it. As he'd expected, Geoff took it, but after a single swallow, he set it aside.
Screwing his hand in the front of Chris's shirt, he yanked him forward on the stool to put his mouth on his. Chris's hands landed on his waist, digging in as Geoff's tongue slid between Chris's lips to tease and tangle. Geoff held him fast, hand wrapped around the back of his skull. He kept the kiss going until Chris's head was swimming. Only then did he pull back and hand Chris the bottle.
Chris managed to rally, despite the surge of blood to his groin. "Gross. Now I have your germs."
"In a couple of different orifices," Geoff confirmed. He stayed close, his hand sliding down Chris's side and back, covering his buttock and taking a good handful of ass. "I'm thinking I'd like to test how sturdy the bench is. Hammer myself into you over it."
"Yeah?" Chris had a mix of feelings about that. Some of it was inexplicable uneasiness, but his cock could care less. It jumped at the tone in Geoff's voice and was ready to go for it now, now, and oh, by the way--now.
"Yeah. You're wearing jeans today. An old pair. All faded, creased and with a bunch of tears and holes in them. Didn't even think you still had that pair anymore. So used to you wearing your camos and painter pants to get dirty."
"I dug them out of the back of the drawer. Need to do laundry."
"Hmm." Moving to the wall, Geoff hit the button that lowered the garage door. As the engine engaged and the door trundled down, shutting them away from the rest of the world, Chris felt suddenly like he was on a cliff ledge, hanging there by his fingernails.
"Think I'm just your fuck toy, whenever, however?"
"Nope. You're a hell of a lot more than that." When the door reached the concrete pad, sealing them in, Geoff didn't bother to conceal the lust in his expression, and swept that look over Chris. "But it's a definite side benefit. You've been looking at me all morning like you want to eat me, but I'm going to take the first bite."
How did he do that? He made Chris feel naked with those searing hazel eyes, as if they'd already peeled off his clothes and the top layer of skin, exposing everything beneath. Was that a Dom thing? And what did it say about Chris, that it disturbed him as it did, giving him anxiety and a hard-on at once?
As if knowing Chris was teetering, Geoff took a seat on another stool, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "I've watched you build things before," Geoff noted, "But not like this. Your mouth sets in a line when you're concentrating. And you handle everything with such care. You connect to everything you do, whether it's planting or washing dishes, or listening to me or Sam. You don't do anything casually. You're fully in the moment."
His hazel eyes became more vivid, so the gold, green and brown reminded Chris of bright moss on a tree wearing golden fall colors. "It makes me think if I touch you, get inside you, I'll be fully in that moment."
Chris wet his lips and Geoff picked up the water bottle again, extending it with a half smile. Not mocking, just . . . understanding. Chris's fingers slipped off the ledge a little more. When he closed his hand on the bottle and took it, Geoff caught Chris's belt loops, bringing him a step closer with inexorable pressure.
"Do you remember Larry Featherwood?" Geoff asked, taking the bottle and setting it aside when Chris was done. Chris wasn't sure where to put his hands or how to stand, when he was standing between Geoff's splayed knees.
"You can touch me, Chris," Geoff said. "Just don't go for my dick yet, because I want to get this out, and if you touch me like that, I won't."
He was used to Geoff being a master of clever words. Geoff didn't lie, but he often wrapped the truth in clever striped and twisted packaging. Straight honesty put things on a different footing, but it also helped. No games. Chris slid his knuckle along Geoff's chest, traveling between the pectorals, up to his throat, where there was a dusting of wood shavings. He rubbed them off with his thumb while Geoff's multicolored eyes stayed on his face. "Yeah, I remember Larry." He'd gone to the same middle school they had.
"You remember when he got in trouble for drinking at Megan Sower's party? That Monday, he said he'd been grounded and his dad had taken a belt to him. You remember what you told me about that?"
"I said a lot of shit when I was thirteen." Chris was watching his own hand as if it had a life of its own. It moved from Geoff's throat to his shoulder, and then came to a stop as Geoff lifted his hand to wrap his fingers around Chris's wrist, stilling him. Chris's fingers curved into the T-shirt.
"You said you wished you had a dad who cared enough to take a belt to you. Because your mom is so great and made it work as a single parent, you felt guilty as hell right after you said it."
Chris shifted. "Yeah. Kids can be dumb like that."
Geoff shook his head. "No, I got it. And your mom would have gotten it."
