Chapter Three

This time I blatantly perused his wealth. I checked every jar and moved as many portraits and picture frames just to be rude and intrusive. His parents were all smiley in the photos, just like every fake happy rich family appears in photos, perfectly still, all ready for the camera with every pearly white on display. Real families have the idiot uncle that blinks, or the doofus cousin that makes bunny ears over your head. I felt a flash of pity before quelling it, Dylan didn't want or deserve my pity.

I was eating his candy canes that I'd found on top of a cabinet in the halls.

Freak. It was barely October. I ate the candy canes anyway and was in the middle of lasciviously licking one when he descended the stairs. He had changed into comfortable trousers that ended just above his knees, exposing firm, bronzed calves. A cute blue button down brought out his deep blue eyes. Those eyes went dark when he noticed the candy in my mouth, then he slowly finished his descent, eyes on me all the while. He was definitely checking me out as much I returned the favour. I stared innocently, "Is something wrong?"

"Those are my favorite," he said, "Makes me think of Christmas all year long." He sounded as if he had to explain his candy choices, as if I wasn't already intruding. Almost compulsively he began to rearrange his frames. "Sure, pawn anything you like then," he muttered sarcastically, shuffling towards the doorway.

"Didn't need your permission anyway," I replied, following him and trying to keep my mind out of the gutter. He had so much skin exposed that my mind had started coming up with all sorts of suggestions for each patch of it. I decided to keep my tongue otherwise occupied and said, "Let's go. I have plans tonight." If going home to beat off before bed counted as plans... then yeah, hectic schedule.

He didn't call me out on it, only silently led me to his car. "Seat belt," I said when he was driving through his gates.

"My car." He clenched his jaws and his hands on the wheel. Long fingers ending in perfect nails.

I ignored his fingers and focused on his pigheadedness, raising my eyebrows. "Do you like living? I mean you have a lot of shit to lose right?"

He rolled his eyes and snapped his seat belt into position.

"Good boy."

His hands tightened on the wheel. "Stop doing that," he ground out between his teeth.

"Doing what?" My heart raced. Shit. I'd done it again, my second head's brain was getting smarter at taking control.

"Treating me like I'm some kind of dog."

"You're lucky I'm not you then. If I was treating you like you treat dogs, you'd be getting a replacement pair of legs like Spotty."

"I said I was sorry, okay?" His voice had taken on this exasperated tone, as if I were his mother reminding him to make nice with the other kids.

"What are you five? And no Dylan. You didn't say you were sorry."

He stayed quiet until we pulled into the parking lot of the supermarket. And only then spoke to ask if I was coming. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something dirty as I followed him. That ass though. The things I could do to that ass.

"Dog chow, food and water bowls, shampoo, towels, treats... is this... some kind of joke?"

I grinned, I'd written on the poop scoop. "Is there a problem?"

"You do know I'd just hire a trainer and get another maid right?"

"Not if you want Channel 7 to stay outta your anus."

He was looking at the aisle signs, looking very close to lost. Did he ever shop for groceries? "Seriously, do you have some kinda kink for making me uncomfortable?"

I shook my head, he had no idea how close he was to the truth. I bit back a retort that my true idea of uncomfortable was having my legs amputated like poor Spotty, since I'd given him enough shit about that for the day. Instead I shrugged, "Yeah. Turns me on."

"Do you know where the pet food aisle is?" He whirled on me suddenly and I collided with him with a muffled 'Ooof'. It felt like walking into a wall of muscle. Warm, strong cords of power that were cemented onto perfect bone structure.

Hmmm… bone.

He smelled really good too. Probably some expensive cologne. Not quite... maybe some kind of musky soap. It made me feel heady and blood rushed to all sorts of places that would make being in public uncomfortable.

My hands grabbed at him to steady myself and found that his were already there, one holding my waist and the other on my chest. He patted me slightly before letting me go. "Watch where you're going." He said with half-hearted menace.

"Yeah, the pet food is right over here, it's just past those sacks of kitty litter...."

In the end we ended up buying more than what was on the list. He added a chew toy, bagged dog bones, insisted on a pink and yellow squeaky ball he saw, so gay, several packs of beggin strips, since he'd seen the ads on TV, and a dog rug. A dog might just trade their legs for the whole haul.

Dylan floored it on the way back to his house. I sensed it was done in rebellion but I didn't bother. I wasn't his dad. I wasn't his anything. It was time to get my head out of the gutter. Gay or straight, Dylan wasn't a guy to get mixed up with. He had issues. I could just about guess the shitty backstory to his life.

"Help me fetch this shit you asshole," he called out from his trunk with an amused tone. Had I spaced out in his car? Oh shit.

I waited until I was by his side to check my watch pretentiously, "Yeah, but right after I'm out of here."

He grinned, something full of promise that went straight to my cock. "Sure," was all he said and he shouldered the sack of chow. I was being ridiculous. I should be blackmailing him for a blowjob not helping him shop for a broken dog. Immediately I felt guilty for thinking it, but it wasn't enough to deter the growing erection. Chlamydia, aids, syphilis.

His shirt rode up when he bent over to settle the chow onto the ground and I was left staring. He caught me looking and flushed. "All done."

I hand him his bags and cleared my throat. "Yeah. I uh... yeah, I gotta go."

"Hot date?"

"Something like that."

"Liar."

That part of me stirred again. The part that hated being called out, pushed around or dealing with jerks. That part of me only knew to teach lessons. I faced him off, where he casually threw his weight onto his kitchen counter. Sleek black granite countertops. "What was that?"

"I said, you’re a liar. You're not going anywhere tonight. You just want to leave so you don't grab the ass of the guy who ran over a dog."

I sucked in my breath. Score one, Dylan. Andy, none.

"So I'm right. No hot date. Fuck you, Andy. I don't need you judging me." He wrenched open his refrigerator and shoved in the bones he'd bought, slamming the door. "Well? No cops so far, how do I know you don't hold this over me forever?"

"I have a life you know. But I guess you'll just have to keep me happy for a while." He cocked his head slightly, gauging me, I could see the gears in his head turning. Somewhere along the line he decided to screw logic.

He knew exactly what my casual words had meant, but nothing in the world could’ve prepared me for how readily he seemed to go for it. Men like him didn’t bargain with their bodies. Or so I thought.

"Fuck it," he said crossing the room towards me. I could see every intention written in his eyes, etched across his face. He was going to kiss me.

I caught him halfway there by the throat, feeling him gasp as I took charge midway. I closed the distance slowly, watching for the final sign. His eyes fluttered shut, thick black eyelashes framing his cheeks and I claimed his lips. He tasted faintly of mint I noted as we battled for a moment before he gave way to my control. His lips were hot, soft and sweet. Just as I'd imagined they'd be. I pushed him back against the counter.

He had more muscle, but I was taller. I used that leverage to lower one hand to cup his ass, lifting so he ended up on the countertops. He brought his legs up and wrapped them around me as I secured his face with my other hand. I pulled back only after he whimpered, a low, almost indiscernible sound, full of need.

"Happy?"

"Not more than you," I retorted before nipping his lips so that he cried out softly, then touched his lips wonderingly.

"Gay or Bi?" He asked.

"Gay. Why?" I wasn’t always gay, I used to date a girl and have tons of sex too. Strictly speaking, I still considered some women attractive…

"I don't do Bi-guys," He shrugged, looking particularly more vulnerable than I would have thought possible. So this is how Dylan Ryman looks without his defenses.

"Fair enough. But who says you get to do me," I evaded.

"I thought..." He broke off, "You're toying with me again. Messing with my head. Damn it!" And the walls came up again.

I brought my hand down on his leg hard enough for my hand to leave its mark, then squeezed his thigh. His pupils dilated as he absorbed the pain. Definitely kinky, I noted. "You get this now. You play by my rules."

"My house," he said mutinously.

"Screw that, I don't want your house. I don’t fuck concrete."

"Good to know," he deadpanned, "That would be a turn off." He pressed a quick kiss to my lips and grinned when he pulled back. Hot.

"Your mouth will put you in trouble," I warned, hoping he'd say something that did just that.

He didn't disappoint, "You're going to detain me self-appointed officer?"

I pinched his nipples roughly and he cried out, "Shit! Sadist."

"Are you trying to piss me off?" I pulled away from his legs wrapping around me, then bent him over the countertops. I admired his butt before yanking down his trousers to expose his ass. "Commando?" I sniggered, "You were looking to get screwed." It seemed he was. His ass was slightly fairer but everywhere else was bronzed like his legs. I could see that his butt would be a source of hours of fun. Spanking, marking, biting, rimming. Oh, options sweet options.

"You're so close to playing out a favorite fantasy of mine right now," he confessed, looking over his shoulder, blue eyes pleading quietly.

"Oh, yeah? Tell me."

"No way, that's way embarrassing."

"You mean you won't tell me or you can't?"

He didn't answer so I smacked his ass hard. He squirmed under my hand and hissed through his teeth. "I can't Andy."

"Hmm, guess I'll fill in the blanks then." I slapped his ass again before positioning myself behind him, unfastening my belt and dropping my jeans. "Don't move." For once he shut up. Maybe hoping I'd hurry up if he didn't speak. Tough. I pressed up against his butt, letting him feel my length against him, just teasing his reddened ass.

He pushed back onto me slightly, glancing back to see my dick. He smirked when he managed to see me despite the angle.

"What's so funny," I dared to ask, knowing full well that he was thinking to tell me some kind of dick joke. I'm bigger than people would think, what with me being tall and slim, instead of muscle-bound.

He swallowed, "Nothing, put it in me."

"If you'd taken me to dinner first you'd at least know something about me," I retorted.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Dylan sounded curious at my reproachful tone, he looked back, fervent eyes peering into mine.

"I like to play with my food."