Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate, page 6
part #3 of Boyfriend Chronicles Series
A strangled sound escaped Tyler’s throat, and he went totally still.
“Hmm,” Memphis murmured with a teasing tone, but his heart thumped as he tested the weight of the hot length beneath his fingers. “Feels a lot like mine.”
His roommate seemed to be having trouble breathing.
“But yours is prettier,” Memphis said, his lips twitching in humor.
Without moving, Tyler whispered hoarsely, “I do not have a pretty penis.”
Two strokes of Memphis’s hand brought Tyler alive again, attempting to shove his underwear down. In his eagerness, the guy inadvertently jabbed Memphis in the stomach.
Stars burst behind his lids as pain speared his gut, knocking the air from his lungs with an oof.
Tyler froze, his face flaming. “Sorry.”
Memphis sucked in a breath, staring at his roommate’s cock tenting his underwear, and the words came out rough and dark. “Come here.”
And then everything briefly turned south and headed toward a complete fail.
Memphis tried to help the guy shuck his briefs, and Tyler tried to help him remove his sweat pants, but arms and legs seemed to get in the way, the floundering almost comical. Maybe they were too eager, maybe Memphis was more nervous than he realized. Or maybe he’d grown really freaking clumsy in the last eighteen months. Regardless, the next five minutes were filled with “shit” and “I’m sorry” and “ouch, watch the nuts” as they fumbled to get their clothes off, elbows and knees and heads bumping in such an ungraceful dance that Memphis finally had to let out an embarrassed laugh.
“Seriously, I must be out of practice,” Memphis said as he finally tossed his roommate’s underwear to the floor.
The sight of a naked Tyler saved the day. Memphis, aroused beyond belief, pulled the guy backward and pressed his hard dick firmly against the warm skin of Tyler’s back again. The position felt safe and free from any expectations. Memphis shifted his hips in a lazy, experimental search for friction—a very successful experiment, his groin growing tight with pleasure.
“Oh, hell yeah,” he murmured.
As he continued the delicious action for several seconds, Tyler stared at Memphis without blinking, slightly slack-jawed and with the cutest combination of lust and affection and anticipation in his eyes. Seriously, no one should look so freaking adorable, be they male or female. But he was most definitely male. Memphis wrapped his hand around Tyler’s cock again.
And Tyler’s lids fluttered shut, accompanied by a moan. “Please―”
Memphis hesitated. Once he jerked Tyler off, it would be too late to go back. In fact, it was probably too late to salvage anything anyway. This would change their relationship for sure, and a part of him was petrified he’d lose their friendship.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Memphis asked.
The answer came out harsh. “Yes.”
Memphis’s every cell did a fist pump. He circled the head of Tyler’s cock with his thumb, pulling another moan from the guy as Memphis tested the feel of the fluid pearling at the tip. But it wouldn’t be near enough, and he was too impatient to go in search of lube. After a split second of hesitation, he released Tyler’s dick, ignoring the whine of protest from his roommate.
He held his hand in front of Tyler’s mouth. “Lick it,” he said and then winced.
Damn, saying the words slower probably would have been sexier, and less…cheesy.
Tyler complied, the rasp of a warm, wet tongue against skin sending an electrical surge through Memphis’s body. How could something that should feel gross be so insanely boner inspiring?
The air began to grow heated around them as Tyler continued. Soon, the hand was wet enough to do the deed, and Memphis and his dick both nearly wept with joy, his every cell crispy fried to perfection. He palmed Tyler’s cock again, enjoying the hard length, thick and hot as he pumped up and down, saliva easing the way. Need growing, Memphis rolled his hips forward in search of pleasure again, thrusting against naked skin.
Oh, God. The combination felt so good. So sweet. So right.
His roommate’s voice sounded desperate. “Memphis―”
Satisfaction brought a smile to Memphis’s face. God, the breathy catch coming from Tyler’s throat with every tug of Memphis’s hand lit a fire that might never go out. He needed more of that. He wanted to hear Tyler moan and beg and whimper. He wanted Tyler writhing against him. He wanted to watch the guy come completely undone while he—Memphis Freaking One-Nut Haines—made it happen.
So he set out to do just that.
Soon, Tyler pressed his head back against Memphis’s shoulder, panting out nonsense words, Memphis power-drunk on his reactions. His roommate reached behind and grabbed Memphis’s ass, coordinating the rock of their hips and pressing them closer together, blunt fingernails biting deep into skin.
“Fuck yeah,” Memphis ground out.
He buried his nose in Tyler’s hair as they undulated against each other, the single bed squeaking in protest. Sweat and precum eased the way now; the slide of his cock against the slick skin of Tyler’s back was delicious and way hotter than the simple action should feel.
Desire coiled tightly in Memphis’s groin, and he began to thrust harder. Maybe this wasn’t screwing in the traditional sense, but, Jesus, it felt freaking fucktabulous. Soon, with every forceful arch of Memphis’s hips, Tyler began to slide forward on the bed.
Pumping Tyler’s dick faster, voice hoarse, Memphis said, “Hold on.”
Tyler’s arm shot forward as he braced himself. Elbow locked, hand splayed against the wall, the guy gasped for breath. The aching pleasure in Memphis approached pain, and he squeezed his eyes closed.
Then Tyler stiffened and let out a strangled cry. Hot liquid shot across Memphis’s hand, making a seductively wet snick, snick, snick sound against the skin as he continued to work him through his orgasm. And while Memphis had always worried whether his new equipment would interfere with his ability to perform under pressure, with a harsh groan, he gave three final thrusts that brought the whole matter to a decisive close, coating Tyler’s back with his cum.
Two seconds passed with Memphis’s heart loudly pounding the blood through his ears. When he finally felt capable of movement, he opened his eyes. His gaze landed on something oozing down the wall in front of them. Dazed, Memphis studied the wet spot, confused. Until he realized Tyler had come so hard some of his jizz had hit the wall.
“Ty,” he said with a weak chuckle, sounding as whipped as he felt, “you made a mess.”
A groan came in response as Tyler rolled forward to collapse on his stomach. “I’ll grab a towel in a minute.”
Smiling, Memphis leaned forward and pressed a kiss between Tyler’s shoulder blades, feeling deliciously lax and loose and warm. There was definitely warm spooge on Tyler’s lower back.
“This guy-on-guy action will take some getting used to,” Memphis said. “Double the wet spot, double the fun.” He lazily traced the words “wash me” in the sticky wet splotch on Tyler’s skin before smearing the letters away. “I’ll have to keep that in mind next time.”
Breathing heavily, Tyler turned his head on the pillow to look at Memphis. This time the pink flush on his cheeks, the heavy-lidded gray gaze, and the bed-head hair weren’t from sleeping, which upped the adorable factor.
The well-fucked look and sex-slurred tone made adorable hot.
“Next time?” Tyler asked.
Memphis heard the question, and his fingers paused in the midst of tracing his name in the cum on Tyler’s back.
“Yeah,” he answered slowly, suddenly unsure of himself. He stared down at the glistening M-E-M-P-H- he’d scrawled on his roommate. Why did he suddenly feel like a fourteen-year-old kid who’d just lost his virginity? “I mean, if that’s what you want, too.”
He eyed Tyler’s messy hair, itching to bury his fingers in the loose curls again. And when Tyler absently licked his kiss-swollen lips and dropped his gaze to Memphis’s cock, Memphis let out a girly whimper he refused to be ashamed of.
“Yes,” Tyler said. “I want.”
Memphis’s grin returned. “Just give me a sec to recover, okay?”
~~~***~~~
Present-day, San Francisco
Memphis’s ex-wife hadn’t been a beard.
Tyler’s mind felt stuck on the thought as he maneuvered the Jeep through downtown traffic while Memphis gazed out the passenger window. After escaping the site of the stunt, amazingly enough, the guy had remained silent for the last fifteen minutes of the drive to the city, occasionally massaging his temple. Clearly his head still hurt. Despite his obvious discomfort, Memphis jiggled his foot constantly. As if the risk of jostling his body were worth the release of pent-up energy.
Julissa hadn’t been a beard.
Tyler had meant what he’d said. He was glad Memphis hadn’t felt pressured to live a lie. No one should. But how could Tyler be expected to discuss the issue rationally when he couldn’t decide how the news affected him?
Back in the day when he’d still wondered why Memphis had given up on their relationship, Tyler had managed to come up with plenty of possibilities. Possibilities such as Memphis had simply been bi-curious and, after test-driving a new lifestyle, had realized the way of life wasn’t a match. Or maybe he’d simply decided he didn’t want the added difficulties of living as a gay man. A bisexual label probably wouldn’t have been any easier—no doubt pure heterosexuals fit better in the testosterone-soaked world of a stuntman.
None of these options had left Tyler feeling particularly good. Ultimately, though, the reasons were irrelevant because Memphis had married Julissa. And Tyler had learned firsthand that it was hard being replaced by another.
Harder still when that new partner represented a rejection of your whole way of life.
Judas Priest.
He’d dealt with this years ago, so why give it a thought now?
But he knew why. Memphis had been the first person to totally accept Tyler’s sexuality. Their months together had helped him solidify who he was and accept himself. When Memphis had married a woman, Tyler couldn’t view the act as anything other than a betrayal, a slap in the face. A rejection of everything he’d been: homosexual and, according to the laws at the time, unable to marry. Short of extensive surgery, estrogen replacement therapy, and a pack of lies, he never could have given the man boobs, a vagina, or a so-called “normal” life.
But Memphis…
Tyler’s lips twitched in humor as he remembered the stuntman’s equal-opportunity boner comment to the reporter. He’d looked almost eager for the words to be plastered in the paper. And to hear he’d never tried to hide who he was, and the way he wore his sexuality so proudly now by irreverently thumbing his nose at anyone who took issue with him being bi, well…all of this only added to his appeal.
Tyler mentally let out a groan.
Being around Memphis was getting more and more complicated. And Tyler was ready for some peace and quiet and some time alone. All the soul searching was exhausting. His ex’s presence even more so.
Tyler definitely wanted to get Memphis settled in the guest bedroom before Noah returned home. With any luck, he could accomplish the task without losing his mind or the stuntman passing out.
After parking the Jeep, Tyler kept an eye on Memphis’s movements as they crossed the parking garage, pleased his gait was steady. But once inside the elevator, the man dropped his duffel bag to the floor and leaned his head back against the wall.
Tyler’s eyebrows drew together, and he pushed the button for their floor. “You okay?”
“Just a little lightheaded,” he said, closing his eyes and giving a dismissive shrug.
The gesture seemed forced, so Tyler positioned himself close by in case Memphis suddenly succumbed to the dizziness during their ascent. The scent of salt water and warm male filled the small compartment.
“Let me know if you need to throw up,” Tyler said.
“You’re standing so close,” he said, lids still shut. “You’ll definitely be the first to know if I puke.”
Unfortunately, the elevators in this building were notoriously slow, leaving Tyler too much time to study Memphis’s reflection in the mirrored wall. His face still looked a little pale, but all in all, his color had improved. Tyler also noticed the wet jeans still hugged the underwear model’s form. He wore the damp, tousled, just-been-blown-up look well, and awareness simmered in Tyler’s gut.
Why the hell had he brought him back here? Oh, yes, to make sure Memphis didn’t slip into a coma and die.
As if sensing Tyler was in a hurry to escape, the elevator slowed to a stop several floors below their intended destination. After a soft ping, the door opened, and a woman with gray hair entered, a Chihuahua sporting a pink bow nestled under one arm. The smartly dressed female, who appeared to be in her late sixties, glanced at the two of them and gave a small start.
Oh, no…
The stuntman opened his eyes and, with a light frown, studied the dog. And then he shot the owner a smile. Judging by the friendly grin, he was feeling well enough to realize she’d recognized the two of them.
The frown she sent in return was almost rude, and Memphis’s dimples slipped away. Two beats passed in strained silence.
“Don’t worry,” Memphis finally said dryly, “queer isn’t catching.”
Oh, God. Tyler recognized that look. It was the same one the man had worn with the reporter. Tyler watched the doors slide shut, leaving him no way out, and sensed a pending altercation.
“I’ve lived in San Francisco longer than you’ve been alive,” she said as she pushed the button for the top floor. “So I’m well aware of that.”
Memphis lifted a brow but didn’t say anything as she gazed at the two of them before going on.
“Is the tabloid article true?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Memphis. “These days, people seem to toss the bisexual label around just for attention. I told my friends your story was just to gain publicity.”
Memphis reacted with an amused huff of annoyance and an aborted eye roll. “What is up with all the wild speculation?” He rubbed his head with his fingers before gesturing at Tyler. “Do I have to provide everyone with a little demonstration?”
Christ.
Heat shot through Tyler’s limbs, and the woman’s lids went higher. Was she shocked by Memphis’s response? Annoyed? Amused? A strained lull filled the elevator marked by the slow, pinging passage of each floor. And then the dawning realization hit Tyler. The woman didn’t look annoyed. In fact, a lewd gleam slowly appeared in her eyes.
No. Just…no.
Every day this week, Tyler had cursed the slow elevators in Noah’s building but never as vehemently as he did now. When another ding occurred, the doors slid open on Noah’s floor. Memphis pushed off from the wall, preparing to leave, and the woman actually seemed disappointed.
Memphis held the door open for Tyler and sent the woman a wink. “Maybe next time we’ll give you a show.”
“I live in the penthouse suite if you two think you can handle me,” she said.
Jesus Haploid Christ.
Tyler just managed not to swallow his tongue. And, for the second time since coming back into Tyler’s life, Memphis went completely still. The proposition was almost, almost, worth the shocked look on Memphis’s face. Smothering a smile, Tyler picked up Memphis’s duffel bag and grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the elevator. The doors slid shut behind them.
“I was trying to offend her so she’d leave us alone,” Memphis said, still sounding stunned.
“I think your plan produced the opposite effect.”
“How was I supposed to know the woman would invite us to a three-way granny kink?” Memphis shuddered. “Does that even exist?”
Tyler fought the urge to laugh. “Do a Google image search and find out.”
Memphis grunted. “Right after I gouge out my eyeballs.”
They started down the hallway, and a faint barking sound drifted down the elevator shaft.
“Figures she’d have a little yappy dog,” Memphis muttered.
The tension in his voice was surprising.
Tyler stopped at the condo door and pulled out his key, forcing the smile from his face. “Are you telling me you have no problem with nearly getting yourself killed, but you’re afraid of small dogs?”
“No,” he said, sounding offended. “I just prefer the larger breeds.” With a slight frown, he went on, “One time I got bitten by a Chihuahua on the set.”
Memphis Haines, dodger of explosions, looked cute while trying to hide the fact that small dogs made him nervous. And, goddamn it, Tyler should not be thinking he was cute.
Tyler opened the door with a sense of relief. The peace and quiet and space away from Memphis was nearly at hand. Unfortunately, the moment they stepped into the foyer, Tyler heard three distinct voices coming from the kitchen, and his heart instantly slipped to his stomach.
Dealing with Memphis in front of Noah would have been challenging enough, but Dylan and Alec too…? All three of his friends would have an opinion about the stuntman’s presence.
Desperate to avoid that particular scene, Tyler gestured down the hallway, keeping his voice low. “First things first. Let’s go get that cut cleaned and bandaged.”
Memphis shot him a hell no look. “The salt water is making me itchy, and my clothes are fucking uncomfortably wet,” he said. “I’m showering first. So, unless you want to join me…”
The words sent a sizzle through Tyler’s body. His nervous system was growing fatigued, and, technically, the night hadn’t even gotten started yet. He briefly considered abandoning his vow to uphold the Hippocratic oath and dumping Memphis off at his hotel, alone.
Tyler quietly inhaled a breath and held out the duffel bag.
“Second door on the left is the guest room and bathroom. Help yourself to the shower,” he said in a low voice. With any luck, he could keep Memphis’s presence a secret until tomorrow, when Tyler felt more prepared. Better yet, forever would work really well. “You should lie down before you fall down. I’ll be there in a bit to take care of that cut.”
