The sun hasn’t even kissed the horizon when I ring the doorbell at Ted’s house early the next Saturday. In the past week, we’ve had our usual Monday night dinner together and texted as often as before. But I haven’t been able to get the image of Ted in leather out of my mind all week. All week. It’s time that something more than my hand did something about it.

Jonathan opens the door, unable to keep the curiosity or the yawn from his face.

“Sorry,” I sign, with my fist in a circle on my chest.

He waves me off and stumbles back to bed, knocking on Ted’s door before he disappears upstairs.

Ted opens his bedroom door clad only in a pair of hot pink briefs that I can’t seem to drag my eyes away from. “Kieran?” His deep voice is thick with sleep, but I’m not rethinking my decision in coming here.

“I’m ready,” I say, straightening my back. This is no time to display weakness.

“It’s only been three weeks.”

“Exactly. Three weeks. I know what I want, and I know that it’s you.”

Ted retreats into his room before returning with a t-shirt and pajama pants. His arms stretch overhead and I only get a few more seconds to take in those dusky, pierced nipples buried under his manly fur before they disappear under a soft grey t-shirt. Doesn’t stop my hand from reaching out to pet his chest. You know, just testing to see if the shirt really is as soft as it looks.

He captures my hand in his, pressing it firmly against his body.

“Come on, I’ll make breakfast.” The words rumble through him, vibrating against my hand.

“I can think of something I’d rather eat,” I say, once I remember how to breathe again.

Ted merely growls and drags me into his kitchen.

“What do I have to do to convince you?”

He starts a pot of coffee, but he keeps moving around the kitchen and avoiding me. A metal bowl clanks against the countertop as Ted tosses out ingredients and utensils from drawers and cabinets in preparation for breakfast. He scoops out flour and sugar and pours them into the bowl.

“Nothing. We had a deal. I promised you a month, and I’m a man of my word.” He turns to the fridge to get out soy milk, and focuses on whisking everything together, not waiting for my pushback.

The corded muscles in his forearms distract me temporarily, but then they become additional fuel to fire my mission. Operation Bang Ted is fully underway now.

He takes a quick break from whisking and puts a kettle on, then grabs two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee maker. His coffee is ready, but he has two boxes of tea that he sets out for me, as if it’s no big deal. I’ve had breakfast here before, and he didn’t have tea then. Which means he put thought into this, having tea already in his home in the hopes there would be another breakfast opportunity. I know I’m a romantic, but damn.

“What if we created a new deal, huh? We could play for it. You win, we wait for a week. I win …” I wait until he turns back around to waggle my eyebrows at him. He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t act annoyed, just stares. Until there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes, and he smiles at me like I’m the lost bunny trapped by the starving wolf.

“If I can pick the game, you have a deal.”

I know Ted is like the video game savant, but I’ve got youth and reflexes and eyesight that doesn’t require any kind of lens, much less one of the bi-variety. I’m confident that I’ve got this.

“Deal!”

I watch Ted from behind as he pours pancake batter and expertly flips each one, time after time, until three plates are piled high. He covers one of them with plastic wrap and brings the other two over to the table. I don’t try to hide my interest or distract myself from the arousal brought on by watching him cook. After all, I’m determined to win, so it will only intensify and heighten the ultimate result, right?

I dive into the pancakes, catching a drip of syrup down my chin with my index finger, and watch Ted’s fork completely miss his mouth as I lick the drop with a long swipe of my tongue. Yeah, I’ve got this.

After cleaning up breakfast – it’s only fair since Ted did all the work – I sit down on the couch ready to reap my rewards. My hands rub together in excitement and anticipation. “So, what are we going to play?” I reach out to grab one of the controllers sitting on the edge of the coffee table, when a box drops to the table in front of me with a thud and a rattle. You’ve got to be kidding.

“Chess?”

Ted grabs an ottoman and situates himself on the opposite side of the table, his knees poking up on either side of his body, almost to his shoulders because he’s so low to the ground. “You said I got to pick.”

“But I don’t know how to play chess.”

Ted removes the lid from the box and tosses it across the table to me. “Instructions are on the inside cover. Hope you read fast.”

I scan as fast as I can while he sets up the different pieces in very specific spots. He obviously knows what he’s doing. Fuck.

We start playing and immediately two of my taller, which I’m assuming means better, pieces get swiped from the board, by Ted the chess-shark. This is war and I’m not losing Operation Bang Ted without a fight. The way he’s straddling the ottoman leaves certain areas open to a sneak attack. While he studies the board in preparation for his next move, I make a move of my own, involving snaking my sock-clad toes under the crotch of his pants.

“Hey, what are you–” Ted tries to shift away from my feet, but his position doesn’t allow for much flexibility. I wiggle my toes around until I feel his length down the left leg of his pants and begin to wriggle in earnest.

“Kieran,” he says, his voice laced with warning.

“You never said I couldn’t play dirty.” I give him the most innocent shrug of my life.

I don’t think he even looks at the board as he moves a piece from one spot to the next, too intent on standing and replacing the ottoman with a kitchen chair, one that keeps him at a height where my feet can’t reach.

“Spoilsport.”

It doesn’t matter. I have no idea what I’m doing, either playing chess or trying to seduce Ted, and I quickly fail at both.

“Best two out of three?” Ted says now that he can be generous.

“Sure, if we can pick a different game,” I say with a grump. I really didn’t think I’d have this much difficulty talking him into moving up our chill-out period finish line.

Ted squeezes himself between me and the arm of the couch, even though there’s plenty of room on my other side. He pinches my chin between his fingers and lays a kiss lightly on my lips.

“I didn’t take you for a sore loser.”

“Maybe if you seemed even the tiniest bit upset at what you’re losing out on by winning.” I pause and go over that sentence in my head. Yeah, that’s what I meant.

Ted’s gentle smile causes such turmoil to my insides, but it’s nothing on what happens when he takes my hand and places it over his crotch. “If you think this is easy on me, you’d be sorely mistaken.”

“It’s hard.” That was supposed to be a question. “I mean difficult?”

“Very, very hard.”

“So, two out of three?”

The coffee table gets cleared of chess, and Ted sets Scrabble down in its place. Oh, it is so on. Not sure if Ted is trying to even things up or not, but I was an English major. Operation Bang Ted is back on track.

I start off slow, just to see what I’m up against. Simple four or five letter words, back and forth, until I see my opportunity.

“Mucosae?”

“Hmm, and with a triple letter on the M and a double word score, that’s thirty-two points.”

Ted’s eyes narrow and he draws more tiles. He takes his time sorting them, then lays them out one by one with a pleased flush on his face.

“Blowjobs. Double letter on the B and the S. That’s twenty-three. And double word score makes it forty-six.”

Jonathan pads past us to the kitchen, stopping to look over Ted’s shoulder at the board and smirk. He eats his pancakes while we continue playing. Ted obviously isn’t shy around his nephew, or he’s just trying to disarm me, because his words all have a new theme going.

“Why Mr. Olson, someone might think you’re trying to distract me.”

“You never said I couldn’t play dirty,” he says, throwing my words back at me.

Surprisingly, the words rim, moan, and drip might be small, but he has made use of the board and our point total is neck and neck.

Jonathan stops on his way out the door and signs to Ted. I catch the signs for study and day, but between them, they’re too fast for me to get much else. Jonathan turns to me.

“Later, Kieran. Have fun,” he signs slow enough for me to get all the words and walks out the door laughing.

I study Ted, but he turns on the innocent act, and focuses on making the word “suck” on the board. He tallies up the scores and tosses the paper onto the coffee table.

“You win,” he says, grabbing both mugs from the table and trying not to look like he’s stretching his back as he goes.

“One to one. Can we play the final round at the kitchen table?” I ask because I know his pride won’t let him, and I want that back able to do other things later. I make an obvious show of stretching. “My back is getting stiff. And that’s not the part I want stiff today.”

“Go clean up the other game and I’ll get things set up in here,” he says as he refills his coffee and pours more water over a fresh tea bag in my mug.

“Yes, Daddy,” I say with an eye roll. If the man doesn’t want me joking about his age or Daddy kink, he needs to stop bossing me around. Except that my dick likes it. It presses hard against my zipper when I bend over to pick up the game board and slide the tiles into the box.