Desire & Denial (Southern Boys Book 3) Page 2

  Chaz could see the family resemblance, even if Del had more gray than Jon. Both were of a similar build, though Del was more of a bear than his brother.

  Not to say that Jon didn’t have that whole bear thing going on too. His beard was fuller, blacker, and as for those eyes…. They were green and gorgeous.

  But there the similarity ended, especially when it came to Chaz’s reactions to the two men. Del made him want to work harder, to please him, to be a success.

  Jon made Chaz want to drop to his knees in front of him and please him in a totally different way. Just thinking about Jon frequently brought on a very pleasurable stiffness, one that required a slick hand when Chaz was alone in his bed, separated from Jon by one wall.

  Chaz knew exactly when he’d first begun to view Jon in an altogether more carnal light. It started not long after that horrific Thanksgiving when his daddy had decided to take out his rage against all things queer on Chaz’s face and body. Jon had been so considerate. For days after, he’d checked that Chaz’s bruised and sore chest and belly weren’t in fact a case of fractured ribs. He’d taken care of Chaz when Chaz had needed it most. In fact, Jon was more caring that Chaz’s daddy had ever been.

  The realization brought Chaz back to what had screwed up his Saturday. He hadn’t expected a call from his dad, but for his mom to forget what day it was really hurt. Hell, she only had one kid. Was it too much to expect a call on his fucking birthday? Del and Jon had said nothing, but that was because Chaz had kept his mouth shut. Telling them it was his birthday would have made him feel like he was a little kid who needed good wishes and presents, when what he really needed was a kick-ass blowjob.

  Yeah right. Like I’m gonna get me one of those. He had more chance of pigs flying out of his butt.

  The wind picked up and Chaz shivered. Time to head home. The thought warmed him. Even after so short a time, Jon’s house was home. Of course, what would make it freaking perfect? If Jon was into guys. Younger guys.

  One younger guy named Chaz, to be precise.

  He fired up the bike and headed home, doing his best to think of pizza and soda, a roaring fire to combat the chill in the air, and a night on the couch, watching a movie with Jon. A blowjob was out of the question, of course—Duh—but what Chaz wouldn’t do for a cuddle on the couch right then…

  Stop torturing yourself. It just makes things worse.

  Jon’s truck was parked in the driveway, and the sight was reassuring. Throughout the afternoon Chaz’s concerns had multiplied. Jon wasn’t usually that quiet, and after Del’s announcement, Chaz had expected more of a reaction.

  I hope he’s feeling better.

  Chaz killed the engine and left the bike in its usual spot by the back porch, after first pulling a cover over it. He went into the house, sighing inwardly as warmth surrounded him: Jon didn’t like the cold, damp weather either.

  “I’m home!” he called out, taking off his jacket and hanging it on a hook by the back door. He kicked off his shoes. “You ready to order?”

  Jon snorted loudly. “I was ready half an hour ago. Get your butt in here and tell me what you want.”

  Chaz laughed and walked through the utility room into the kitchen and finally the cozy living room. “You already know.” Jon was sprawled on the couch, his socked feet propped up on the coffee table. The fire was blazing behind the grate, its heat spilling out into the room. In one hand he held a bottle of beer, and in the other was the menu for Mama Lisa’s.

  Chaz flopped onto the couch beside him, leaning over to get a better look. Not that he didn’t know the menu by heart, but it was an excuse to shift a little closer. Jon smelled of soap and a woodsy fragrance that played havoc with Chaz’s senses. Lord, he smells good. Chaz longed to lean in and bury his face in Jon’s neck, nuzzling him there, to feel those big, strong arms surround him and pull him in tight against that solid body.

  Shit, he wanted a whole lot more than that, but it was a start, right?

  “How long does it take to make up your mind?” Jon mused. “And don’t say Hawaiian. I already made my feelings plain on that subject.”

  Chaz blinked and pulled himself back into the moment. “BBQ chicken pizza, fries, wedges, and fried pickles. Coke.”

  Jon chuckled. “Boy, where do you put it all? You’re as skinny as a bean pole.”

  “Hey, I’m still growin’. And what about you? What are you gonna have?”

  “Loaded meats.” Jon grinned. “Gotta love meat.”

  Chaz coughed. Lord, the struggle not to react…. “Could we maybe have the chocolate strawberry pizza for dessert?”

  Jon stared at him. “You got a tape worm or somethin’?”

  “Hey, I’m allowed dessert on my birthday.” Fuck it. He had to do something to mark the day.

  Beside him, Jon stilled, his face aghast. “It’s your birthday? Well, I sure wouldn’t win any award for Daddy of the year.” He blinked. “Not that I’m your—”

  Chaz chuckled. “It’s okay. And for the record, you’ve been more of a daddy to me than he ever has.” That word conjured up a whole host of images in his brain, and he did not want to be having them when Jon was right there. A hard-on was pretty difficult to hide, especially in Chaz’s tight jeans.

  There was a time and place for those kinds of images—his bed at night, when Jon couldn’t hear Chaz softly moan his name when he shot his load.

  “Why didn’tcha say something?”

  Chaz shrugged. “I didn’t wanna make a fuss.”

  Jon pulled his phone from his pocket. “You should’ve said somethin’. Come to think of it, I should’ve known. We’ve only got one employee, for Christ’s sake. It wouldn’t have been that big a deal to make a note of your birthday.” He called up the app for the pizzeria and added their order. “Okay, we got maybe forty minutes before they get here.” Chaz’s belly growled, and Jon laughed. “I’ll get the chips. I don’t think you’re gonna last that long.” He hauled himself up off the couch and headed for the kitchen, Chaz following.

  He stood in the doorway, watching as Jon reached into the cabinet where he kept the bags of snacks. Chaz went to the refrigerator to retrieve the Coke.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” Jon came to a dead stop in the middle of the kitchen floor. “You’re eighteen today, aren’t ya?” When Chaz nodded, Jon widened his eyes. “Well, shit. That’s a huge deal.”

  “Why? I still can’t buy beer.”

  Jon chuckled. “No, you can’t, but I think you get one today.” He narrowed his gaze. “Tell Del, and you’re a dead man. And especially don’t tell Taylor.” He reached past Chaz into the refrigerator and removed two bottles of beer. He handed one to Chaz. “Eighteen opens a whole lotta doors for you. There are so many things you can do now.”

  “Such as?” Chaz opened the bottle and took a long drink. It wasn’t his first. At sixteen, he’d found out where his dad kept his beer supply, and now and again Chaz used to sneak a bottle and go out to find a quiet spot to enjoy it.

  Until the day his dad caught him. The irony was that he’d been less pissed about the alcohol than he had about the gay magazine.

  Jon leaned against the cabinet. “Well… you can vote, for one thing.”

  Chaz huffed. “So what? It don’t matter who you vote for. Nothing changes.”

  Jon shook his head slowly. “Wow. So cynical. Voting is the only way we get to change things, so of course it matters.”

  “Tell me something else I can do now.” There was no way Chaz was going to spend his birthday discussing politics.

  Jon took a swig from his bottle before handing Chaz a bag of chips. “You can join the military. Get a piercing or a tattoo.” His eyes sparkled. “You got an itch to cover your body in art?”

  He had something there. Chaz had often thought about it. “Maybe,” he said slowly. He peered at Jon’s arms, hidden beneath his sweater. “You got any?” He’d never once seen Jon even semi-undressed. Maybe he’s shy. Some guys are.

  Jon grinned. “Maybe.�
�� He took another swig. “You can get married.”

  Chaz bit his lip. “I’ll give that one a pass right now.”

  Jon’s face lit up. “Hey, there’s stuff you can buy legally now. A car, a house…” He grinned. “Porn.”

  Chaz almost spluttered beer over the tiled floor. “Who buys it these days, for God’s sake?”

  “Oh, really? The things I’m learning about my roommate.” Jon’s eyes danced with amusement. “And that’s another thing you can do legally. Now you can get laid.”

  Chaz was not going to go down that route of conversation. “What couldn’t you wait to do when you reached eighteen?”

  For a moment, Jon’s face tightened. “I don’t remember.” Then his expression relaxed and he made a grab for the bag of chips, but Chaz was too fast for him, and sped away with it into the living room. They dropped onto the couch, the bag between them, both plundering its contents.

  “Maybe tomorrow when we shop for groceries, we should buy a cake and some of those little candles,” Jon suggested.

  Chaz stiffened. “Don’t bother. I’m not a kid.”

  Jon’s face fell. “I didn’t say you were. Hell, it’s Del’s birthday just before Christmas, and I was gonna get him a cake. Does that make him a kid?” He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling. “Don’t answer that.”

  Chaz sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mouthed off like that.” The last thing he wanted was for Jon to see him as a kid.

  “It’s okay. I guess you’ve got a lot on your mind right now.”

  Yeah, Chaz thought. You.

  Jon gazed at him thoughtfully. “Did your mom call?”

  And there he was, back to the real reason his day had been spoiled. “No sir, she did not,” Chaz said quietly.

  Jon’s hand covered his in an unexpectedly tender gesture. “Do you miss her?”

  The bitterness in his mouth soured the taste of his beer. “She don’t miss me none.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Jon said in a gentle voice. “For all you know, she’s been dying to call her baby boy all day, but she hasn’t had the chance.”

  Chaz arched his eyebrows. “I’m eighteen, remember? I’m nobody’s baby.”

  “Well, that just goes to show you don’t know shit,” Jon replied good-naturedly. “One, you’ll always be her baby. Hell, I was my mom’s baby right up till the day she died. And two, someday you’re gonna be somebody’s baby. And when they call you that, your heart will just melt.”

  It was on the tip of Chaz’s tongue to ask if Jon’s heart had ever melted like that, but he figured he didn’t need to know. He didn’t want to hear about some woman Jon had loved and lost.

  Jon went back to drinking his beer, and Chaz gazed at him surreptitiously. Why did you have to be straight? Chaz was under no illusions. Straight men did not fall in love with gay guys. That was strictly a porn fantasy. And that was all Jon was ever going to be—a fantasy.

  The realization brought with it a wave of crushing sadness that was more than Chaz could bear. He got up from the couch. “I’m gonna change into my sweats. Why don’t you decide what we’re gonna watch on TV? I know it’s my birthday, but you’re buyin’ me dinner, so you choose.”

  Jon cackled. “You might regret that decision.” He reached for the TV remote.

  Chaz left him to it and went into his bedroom. He struggled out of his tight jeans and shirt, and into something looser. When he was dressed, he stared at his reflection in the mirror that stood against the wall.

  And even if he was gay, why would he be interested in a bean pole?

  It was turning out to be a really shitty birthday.

  Then he gave himself a swift mental kick up the butt. Just listen to yourself. You got a home, a great guy for a roommate, a job…

  Yeah. He didn’t really have a lot to complain about. So what if he was still a virgin? He grinned. A virgin who was horny 24/7.

  Chaz gathered up his dirty clothing, adding more from his hamper. He left the room and paused at Jon’s bedroom door. “Hey, Jon? I’m gonna do some laundry. You got some I can add to the pile?”

  “Yeah. Look in the hamper. And thanks,” Jon called back.

  Chaz entered Jon’s bedroom and went to the hamper. He pulled out enough clothes to make a full load. As he went to replace the lid, he noticed a white jock lying on top of what remained. He picked it up, heat flushing through him as he fingered the front pouch, imagining Jon’s dick filling it. He knew it would be a tight fit. He’d sneaked a peek at Jon’s package often enough. The guy looked like he was hung.

  On impulse, Chaz did something he’d seen more than once in porn. He brought the jock to his nose and gave it a cautious sniff.

  Holy fuck. It wasn’t disgusting.

  It wasn’t even vaguely unpleasant.

  It was a fucking turn-on, and he had no clue why.

  Chaz covered his nose and mouth with the underwear and breathed in the scent of sweat and balls and cock. It was a heady aroma, and his dick reacted, jerking visibly in his sweats. The temptation to take the jock and hide it in his room was enormous, but no way was he about to do that. Jon would surely notice its disappearance, and Chaz couldn’t exactly explain that away by saying the washer ate it, now, could he?

  “Don’t blame me if all the chips are gone by the time you get back in here,” Jon yelled.

  “Coming!” Chaz glanced down at his erection. Well, not yet, at any rate.

  Bedtime seemed a long, long way off.

  Jon was finally asleep. Chaz could hear his soft snores through the wall. The noise only served to make him even more aware that the partition separating them was pretty fucking thin. Does he hear me when I jerk off? Lord, Chaz hoped not.

  Quietly, he eased open the nightstand drawer to reach inside it for his lube. Despite the dim light, one look at the bottle told him he’d need more soon. That was one shopping item he’d take care of personally. No way was he asking Jon to buy lube.

  He pushed the sheets and comforter down past his hips and wrapped slick fingers around his dick. I should’ve kept that jock. What came to mind was him slowly rubbing it over his face while he pumped his cock. The thought was enough to thicken his shaft until it was like a steel rod against his belly. The smell of Jon in his nostrils…

  Chaz closed his eyes, his hand tugging his cock. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to imagine Jon’s gentle hand on his dick, slowly working it, while he teased Chaz’s nipple with his tongue. He could almost feel the soft scratch of Jon’s beard on his chest and neck, before it rubbed against Chaz’s chin when they kissed.

  Fuck. Chaz ached to feel Jon’s lips on his, for his tongue to explore Chaz’s mouth while he languidly slid that cock in and out of Chaz’s hole. He didn’t want a hard, fast fuck, no sir. Chaz dreamed of a slow, sensual dance, Jon’s arms around him, holding onto him like he was something precious.

  Holding onto me like he loves me.

  That was all it took to have Chaz shooting like a geyser, come spattering his body, while he jammed his hand into his mouth to keep from crying out. The force of his orgasm shook him, leaving him weak and trembling. When the shocks had died away, he got out of bed in search of the T-shirt he’d worn earlier. He wiped away all the stickiness, then climbed back into bed, snuggling beneath the comforter. He knew sleep wasn’t that far behind—it never was after shooting his load—and he focused his thoughts on Jon, picturing him lying beside him, curled around him. It was so real, Chaz could almost feel Jon’s warm body against his, his breath stirring Chaz’s hair.

  Christ, I want this.

  Then he sighed. Like it matters what I want. He knew such desires amounted to one thing—torture. Jon doesn’t see me like that. He wouldn’t want me like that. Jon was simply a good, kind, nurturing man who treated Chaz like he was his own son. Somewhere along the line, Chaz’s mind had twisted a sweet, straight guy into a sexy full-on Daddy.

  He knew it was a fantasy, but hey, a fantasy was better than nothing, right?


  Chapter Three

  The enticing mix of different aromas hit Kendis Sesay as soon as he stepped into the house. His mouth watered instantly. “Momma? You makin’ gumbo?” He freaking loved the smell of frying okra. It always reminded him of his granny’s house when he was little.

  His brother Marcus always claimed it smelled like jizz and tasted like snot, but Marcus was full of shit.

  “No flies on you, honey,” she called out from the kitchen. “Supper’ll be ready soon. How did today go?”

  He was sorely tempted to say, ‘Oh you know. Same shit, different day.’ But he knew better. Momma would whup his ass for saying the word shit, even if he was twenty years old. “I’ve had better.” Then he recalled he did have some good news for her. “Hey, the police called about my car.”

  Momma appeared in the doorway to the living room, wiping her hands on a towel and wearing an expression he knew only too well. He called it her Mm-hmm? look. “Does that mean they got off their fat asses an’ did somethin’ to earn their paychecks?”

  Momma was not a big fan of the local police department.

  Kendis laughed. “You’re not gonna believe this. They’ve caught the guys who trashed it, they’re gonna charge ’em with vandalism and they think I’ll prob’ly get the repairs paid for.” Which was awesome news, because he sure as hell couldn’t afford to do that.

  Momma’s face lit up, the skin crinkling around her eyes. “Well, Hallelujah. ’Bout time we had some good news around here.” She peered at him. “Any luck finding a job?”

  Kendis inclined his head toward the kitchen. “Is somethin’ burning?” Not that he could smell a damn thing, but he sure as shit did not want to get into another talk about job hunting before supper. Those kinds of conversations were always best on a full stomach.

  Momma wrinkled her nose. “Lord, I hope not.” She disappeared from sight, and Kendis took advantage of the situation to flee to his room. Not that this was an escape—it was simply a reprieve.

  Once inside, he closed the door and flopped onto the bed. The smells throughout the house stirred up so many memories of their home back in Louisiana. Not that it had been home for a while. He knew his momma missed her friends and family, especially her brother Elroy. It didn’t help matters that Kendis’s brother Marcus had gone back there. He called her every Sunday, regular as clockwork, and Kendis could tell by the frequent questions she asked that she missed Louisiana too.