Sacha
Warmth cocooned Sacha. Cool hands soothed his overheated skin. They were big hands, ones that could hold him down and do what they wanted. But they didn’t; they felt safe, soft, gentle, skimming across his pecs to lightly tweak a nipple. No one had ever touched him there, and the action sent a jolt of lust directly to his rapidly hardening dick as if there was a direct conduit between them no teacher had bothered to tell him about in sex ed.
He moaned under the attention. His body yearned. Yearned so much. Weight pressed against his back, but he didn’t panic; it felt right and good for the weight to be there. One strong hand continued to roam across his chest, the other still playing with that nipple. He needed it to touch his other nipple. He tried saying the words, but he was overcome with pleasure, speechless. He jutted his hips forward, silently begging for attention.
If he could form words he would demand more and harder, but he couldn’t. Instead he offered his cock, needing touch, caress, the pressure of a hand to find him, dripping and desperate, to stroke him and rub his erection until he came. The hand finally moved down, gripping him briefly before moving farther, taking him in hand.
He was surrounded by heat and fresh sheets. Visceral desire crashed against his carefully maintained barriers, a wave on a rising tide. He moaned again when hot breath warmed the back of his neck. Was that the wet tip of a tongue? One hand on his nipple, leaving the other throbbing with want; the second hand gently rolling his balls, occasionally changing it up to massage his perineum, which had him begging for more—but he couldn’t think about that, couldn’t go there, because teeth bit down on his earlobe and Sacha came, bucking into his own hand, covers and bedding tangling around his legs, trapping him. All the things he’d fantasized about broke through—broke him, leaving him a sweaty, sticky, hot, fucked-up mess after the most fucking incredible dream he’d ever had.
Sacha bolted upright, wisps of the dream disintegrating as he became aware of his surroundings. The sleeping bag was tangled around his hips, and he’d come all over his stomach. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon. The digital clock was glowing an overly bright 4:45 a.m. He dug around in his duffel for hand wipes and did the best he could to clean himself up. The box was half-empty by the time he finished.
The twenty-four-hour gym opened at five a.m.—which he didn’t understand, but he was thankful they were open at all. The locker room was blissfully empty. Sacha took one of the stalls at the very end of the shower room. If he quietly jerked himself off to the image of Seth completely naked with a raging erection all for Sacha, dribbling precome and begging for Sacha to do something, no one was going to judge him but himself. This time of the morning was too early for judgment.
The dream stayed with him long after his come washed down the drain.
He made the drive to the gym three mornings in a row. It was embarrassing that at his age he couldn’t stop thinking, or dreaming, about another man he hadn’t actually touched yet. He kept putting off calling or texting Seth, not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t want to fumble the call. And, going for the win, he had a bad case of nerves making him feel about fourteen years old.
Sacha was also… unsuccessfully trying not to worry about his foster brother. Since Mae-Lin’s phone call he had tried to get ahold of Parker again. There had been no further response to his emails or phone calls, only the single text after his first call. As far as Sacha could tell, Parker hadn’t updated any of his social media accounts either. Sacha was giving him another day to hide and lick his wounds before calling some old law enforcement acquaintances… assuming he hadn’t burnt those bridges and the forest around them when he left Kansas City.
An email had pinged his inbox yesterday, no subject but a link and an already filled virtual shopping cart. Wonderful. He dropped an unholy amount of money on Mae-Lin’s birthday gift. A pair of fancy shoes, for fuck’s sake, but he’d felt his savings balance plummet when he clicked on the “Place order now” button.
Carefully backing down the ladder, Sacha used his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. He was going to have to invest in a fan, or AC. He cringed at the prospect of going out in public again; running into Joey and the gang had been awkward enough. This personal-growth shit wasn’t for cowards. Maybe he could order an AC unit online, a big one with enough BTUs to cool the entire building.
A noise jolted him from a waking fantasy involving huge amounts of cool air blowing across his sweaty body. An indistinct figure was outlined on the other side of his front door. Groaning, he pulled his dirty shirt back over his head. It was probably another neighbor interrupting his work for a building tour who then would stand around expecting Sacha to fucking chat.
Worse, when he opened the door, it was the guy from the Chamber of Commerce again. Sacha had kind of hoped after the guy left his card the other day he was done pestering him. He hadn’t exactly kept his card. It went in the recycling as soon as Mr. Chamber of Commerce’s ass had left the building.
“Is there something you needed?” Sacha asked. He hoped his voice transmitted his lack of enthusiasm at the interruption.
The man seemed unfazed by Sacha’s manner. “Christopher Meyer from the Skagit Chamber of Commerce. Checking in on you again.” Could the guy not tell how little had changed since the last time he’d been by?
“Well, I’m still in the process of tearing out the old before I decide what to do with the new.” How was that for a non-answer? And, weirdly, it resonated personally: Sacha himself was a bit like the Warrick. Fuck, this self-reflection shit was ambushing his brain.
Meyer eyed him warily but continued, “We can provide you with contact names in City Hall to help you with the permit process if you need. We have a network of small business owners who specialize in all aspects of the remodeling process. If you come to our meetings, you will meet other people like yourself.” Sacha tuned his words out; obviously the guy wasn’t going to take a hint and leave. Instead he looked at him carefully, comparing this man to Seth. Testing himself.
Meyer was good-looking, he supposed, and he did have a nice ass. Average height, blond hair cut in businessman style. Unlike Seth’s unruly hair, which, regardless of his attempt to control it, had been slipping out of a hairband and falling nearly to his shoulders when they had met. Sacha had liked Seth’s hair a lot. The suit did nothing for Sacha, either. He’d seen enough of those to last him a lifetime.
There was no spark, nothing about Meyer that made Sacha curious to know more about him. Nothing that would have Sacha waking up in the middle of the night after some of the most erotic dreams of his life. Nothing worth changing his life for. Which was ridiculous, because for all of his replaying their meeting over and over, including Seth’s obvious excitement when he learned that Sacha owned the Warrick, there was no magic that would tell Sacha Seth was interested in him.
Except he didn’t think he’d imagined the reaction when he caught Seth falling off that ladder. Replaying the laughing brown eyes looking up into his own and supple lips in a wide smile was fast becoming a pastime. It was on a fucking repeating loop in his head.
“Mr. Bolic?” Meyer interrupted his train of thought.
“What?”
A file folder appeared in Meyer’s hand. Where had he pulled that from? “Here’s a brochure about our organization and a list of city numbers that could be helpful. The Chamber meets the first Tuesday of the month. Welcome aboard!” Sacha took the folder, and Meyer stuck out his hand for Sacha to shake. Reluctantly, Sacha took it. Meyer’s grasp was firm and slightly sweaty. Once Meyer was on his way out the door, Sacha wiped his hand on his shorts.
Had he agreed to attend a meeting? Sacha wasn’t sure. He’d kind of lost track of the conversation somewhere in the middle… thinking about Seth Culver’s hair.