To my left, Mal and Victoria talk about art, and as much as I’d like to tune them out since it’s not exactly a subject where I excel, I can’t stop listening. Mal speaks with such passion, and their voice is soft and melodious and weaves into my consciousness with gentle tendrils.

Earlier, when they and Ben were talking, I had to hold myself back from checking on them. Mal looks sexy as fuck tonight, tight skirt and that glorious chest exposed. I keep watching for their blazer to slip and expose a nipple, but it never does. It stays perfectly, torturously in place. They came back from their private conversation all smiles, and I keep telling myself that I’m glad. We’re friends, and friends want each other to be happy.

Fuck, my head still aches from last night. I didn’t even have much to drink, but the beer combined with the music and the stress of self-realization, and I woke this morning feeling like I got hit by a karmic Mack truck. Thankfully Ben didn’t notice a thing, or I’d have had more than just inner turmoil to deal with.

Something brushes my left knee and I shift it away from Mal, thinking it must have been an accident. As soon as I move, something touches me again, and I realize they’re chasing my knee with their own. I am so startled I forget myself and turn to stare straight at them. They continue their conversation with Victoria, and I wouldn’t be the wiser except their lip quirks up.

My fork is suddenly slippery in my grip. I look around the table and study each face, taking deep breaths to get myself under control. Everyone else seems oblivious to our touching and to the tornado stirring within me like it’s about to turn my insides into tornado alley. It is just a knee. Two knees touching. I shift until more of our thighs press together, and inhale a shaky breath. God, how can no one notice I’m a total mess right now?

Mal’s index finger traces the valley created by our joined thighs and my fork clatters onto my plate.

I feel the force of every eye on me, but it is Mal who blinks innocently and asks, “Are you okay, Parker?”

Devil in a dress, I’m telling you. So much for pretending all I want is to be friends.

My “yes” comes out less like a word and more like a squeak, and I cough to clear my throat.

“Zach,” I say in a desperate flounder toward a different subject. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to Oklahoma with me in a couple of weeks. It’s my dad’s birthday party, and I do not want to go alone. Mom’s already bugging me about bringing Shelby.”

I had planned on asking him anyway, just not with an audience. Mal resumes their finger torture, but other than a slight shake in my hand as I gulp down my water, I think I’m hiding it better now.

“Why would she want Shelby there?” Zach asks.

“I don’t know. She was acting so weird over the phone, like the divorce was a prank or something. It was very strange. Say you’ll come? I can’t face them alone.”

“I wish I could, but I’m assisting one of my clients with a loan pitch that Friday,” Zach says with regret apparent on his face. “I can’t miss it.”

“I’d go with you, but I can’t miss class. I can help you come up with some good ideas for getting through it, though,” Ben chimes in with an evil eyebrow waggle.

“I’ll go with you.”

The table goes quiet, everyone else as stunned by Mal’s offer as I am.

I turn to gauge Mal’s placid expression. It should indicate this is a throw-away offer, a politeness they casually suggest to any man who has had their dick in his mouth. Maybe even because I have had their dick in my mouth. But their eyes betray them. Their intense depths indicating how much Mal needs me to accept them. And fuck if that doesn’t twist up something deep inside me, replacing all those empty promises I made to myself about keeping a safe distance from Mal.

“I’d love for you to go with me. You do realize you’d be meeting my parents, right? In Oklahoma. They aren’t exactly the most …” I search for the right word, somewhere between tolerant and progressive, but Mal interrupts me.

“You need someone to take the heat off you, right? Well, honey, you’ve come to the right attention whore.”

They lay their hand on my arm, on top of the table in plain view of everyone. I wait for the panic, but their touch has the opposite effect. It settles me, our plans, this situation. It must settle the others too, because the hitherto silent table returns to its previously chatty state. Only Zach still watches our interaction.

“Excellent. Then I’ll text you the details. We will drive down on that Friday and come back on Sunday. It’s a ten-hour drive, so fair warning. You’re sure it will be okay for you to miss work?”

A flicker of pain crosses Mal’s face, so quick I’m sure I’m the only one to see it.

“Positive. Since I no longer have work.”

“What happened?”

“Eh, the usual,” they say with a shrug, effectively shutting me out. But tension creases their eyes and weighs down their shoulders.

“Oh my god, I almost forgot,” they exclaim to the table. “I keep meaning to point it out. Craig and Zach’s ship name is Crach!”

Peals of laughter, particularly from Ben, fill the air, mixed with some grumping from the aforementioned couple. Mal’s posture loses a bit of tension, but it’s still there, in their face. They might have been successful with the others, but they can’t distract me. Losing their job is affecting them more than they want to let on.

* * *

“I don’t know how to thank you for coming with me to Oklahoma,” I say as Mal and I make our way down the sidewalk. With dinner over, everyone has left, including Craig to drive Mrs. Hill home. We exchanged phone numbers inside so that we could make travel arrangements later, and I still can’t believe Mal volunteered to go. “Usually I’m the son who can do no wrong, but lately, I think they only see a total fuck-up.”

The dark hides their expression, but I can surmise a sly grin when Mal says, “I can think of a way for you to thank me. Which is your car?”

I wasn’t going to do this again, drag Mal into my pubescent-like sexual crisis, but I’ve already pointed to my Volvo before my brain has processed the question. They’re not thinking … They’ve got my dick acting like I’m a teenager again, so why not the rest of me?

Mal grabs my hand and struts to the back door of my car. They give the handle a test pull, then motion for me to unlock the door, which I do without a second thought. Where Mal is concerned, my brain and my body disconnect and I’m helpless to resist.

Mal jerks open the door and pushes at my shoulder. “Gentlemen first.”

I can’t believe I’m crawling into the back seat of a car like a fucking teenager, but then Mal hikes their ankle-length skirt all the way to indecently top-of-the-thigh and crawls in after me, and my brain is no longer just disconnected. It has completely short-circuited.

Mal tries to straddle my lap, but even with their skirt hiked as high as it is, it still restricts how wide they can take their legs. Instead, they straddle a single leg, and their knee nestles nerve-rackingly against my balls. They lean over me, probably to keep from bashing their head against the roof. My hands slide underneath their blazer, where they’ve been itching to go all night. They hum so softly it could be mistaken for a sigh as I glide my palms up and down their sides, my thumbs dipping into their belly button and tracing along each rib.

Our lips hover inches apart, panted breaths dusting our faces.

I skim across their chest and slide my hands across their shoulders and down their arms, removing the jacket without ever having to break contact. Their skin is liquid metal and my hands are magnets that can’t pull free. I don’t want to pull free.

I surge up, trying for a taste of their lips, but they shift back to escape my chasing mouth. The movement jolts our bodies and their knee digs hard against my sac while their thigh provides a delicious amount of pressure against my shaft. A heavy breath escapes my chest at the glorious barrage of sensations. Mal must feel it too, because they rest their hands along my shoulders and begin a slow and steady roll of their hips, rubbing their clothed cock in the dip between my hip bone and my groin.

I chase their lips again, and again they evade me.

“Please,” I huff.

They giggle as they slide off my lap and stretch out across the seat, forcing my hands to break contact with their skin. “Ask and you shall receive.”

I’m about to say that this is not at all what I wanted, no kissing or touching, when nimble fingers are at my zipper. Mal extracts my cock from my boxer briefs and it points directly at the roof of the car. For the first time, I notice that the windows are fogged, blocking our actions from the world outside, but still a glaring red flag as to what is going on inside this vehicle.

Mal urges my ass forward in the seat so they can have a better angle to reach inside my pants and caress my balls. Their face hovers over my cock, warm breath ghosting the tip that drips with precum, while their hand rolls my balls and gently squeezes my sac. A finger drifts back and teases my taint and the very base of my crack.

“Ah!” I shout, and a puff of breath forced out by Mal’s laughter hits my dick.

Just the tip of their tongue darts out to lick at the drop that has dribbled from my slit, then continues quick tiny licks all around my head, driving me insane. My hands dig into the seat, trying to find some way to ground me from this incessant torture.

“Mal, fuck!”

They giggle again, like torturing me is the most fun they’ve had all night. Then inch by mind-blowing inch, they slowly suck my cock into their mouth until they’ve swallowed the whole thing. Their tongue ripples along the underside, and then they swallow, creating a brief but amazing pressure in their throat and suction at the head of my cock.

My hands search the air for something to grab onto and hit Mal’s bare back, so smooth and long. I mindlessly rub along their spine, up and down in time with their endless head bobs.

The strength of their suction and the fact that my entire shaft is engulfed within their mouth quickly has my balls tightening. But when Mal’s dry finger moves to my hole and presses, I lose it faster than I thought possible. I don’t even have a chance to warn them before I’m spilling into their mouth. They nurse me through the aftershocks before releasing me.

Mal crawls back over my leg and presses their lips to mine, and my mouth floods with slightly bitter fluid. Their tongue pushes my own cum into my mouth, sending it farther inside with each erotic stroke of their tongue. It’s then that I realize they have their own dick out, slick and jerking as they feed me my release. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced, and as I moan deep into Mal’s mouth, they find their own release onto my favorite dress shirt.

We continue kissing, gentle presses of skin against skin, as we put ourselves back together. Mal just has to shimmy down their skirt and throw on the blazer, and they look as amazing as before. My shirt is not so lucky. Our heavy breaths begin to even out, but keep the window fogged. We both jump at a sudden rap on my window, followed by a beam of light.

I quickly check us both to ensure we’re covered, yes but still sweaty and sticky, before rolling down the window.

“Good evening. License and registration, please,” says a voice whose body I can’t see because of the light. I squint and shield my eyes until I can make out a uniform and badge.

“Sure,” I croak, and lift my ass from the seat to pull out my wallet.

Fuck. What were we thinking? I’ve never been in trouble with the police before – speeding tickets don’t count. My hand shakes as it holds out my driver’s license. “My registration is in the glove box. If you don’t mind me reaching for it, or I can get out if you’d rather.”

The cop shines the light on my license and then more directly in my face. Please don’t point it at my shirt, I send the silent prayer to the make-out gods. “You’re a little old to be fooling around in the back seat of a car, don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir. I do. I totally agree.”

Mal, unhelpful demon that they are, laughs quietly at my flustered response. Too bad for them, it catches the cop’s notice.

“And you? I need to see your license.”

“Sure thing, officer,” Mal says in a silky voice that earns them a glare from both me and the cop.

They pull a thin wallet out of their inner jacket pocket and hand over their license. The policeman pulls the same routine, studying the license and Mal.

“Have either of you been drinking?” he asks, shining the flashlight back and forth between us.

“No, sir,” I say. “I only had water.”

“I had a glass of wine at the beginning of dinner. We were at a dinner party at our friends’ house,” Mal says and motions vaguely toward the houses, but not Zach and Craig’s house specifically. They turn on their phone. The time of ten forty-nine flashes bright in the darkness. “But that was almost three hours ago. Dinner started at eight.”

The officer hands back both of our licenses. “Then I suggest you two take this someplace private. Have a safe night.”

Fuck, that was close. As the police car pulls away, I melt back into the bench seat, but Mal bursts out laughing.

“That was not funny. Can you imagine if we’d gotten arrested? Shelby and her lawyer would have a field day with that.”

Actually, now that I think about it, it would be kind of funny for Shelby to find out that her soon-to-be-ex-husband was caught publicly fucking someone who, by the way, also has a penis. Who am I kidding, it would be hilarious. Maybe it’s the relief making me giddy, but Mal and I laugh together until we’re all giggled out.

“Thank you,” they say, leaning their head against the back of the seat and looking at me.

“For what?”

“You have this uncanny ability to turn my bad days around. I think you have mood vision.”

“Mood vision?”

They trace a finger along my brow and around my eyes. “Yeah, like some crazy superpower where you can see the mood I’m in and swoop in and fix it.”

I like that, the idea that I could be Mal’s superhero.

“Don’t forget you’re my superhero in two weeks. You’re sure you want to go?”

“Absolutely.”

I don’t want to move from the comfort we’ve created here. But if the cop returns, he might not let us off again with just another warning.

“Then I’ll text you. I should get home. And you have a long drive ahead of you.”

Mal leans forward and pecks a kiss to the tip of my nose before saying goodnight and exiting the car. They keep walking, and it’s only then that I notice that I don’t see their truck anywhere. I start my car and pull up even to them farther down the sidewalk.

“Where’s your truck?” I roll down the passenger side window and lean over so they can hear me.

“Parking garage. I left it there last night.”

I ignore the twist of jealousy at the thought of Mal out with someone else last night.

“Hop back in. I’ll drive you there.”

Mal settles back into my car, lips quirking like they’re trying not to laugh. “You know, I can walk a few blocks. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Maybe I just wanted a few more minutes of your company.”

A short burst of air puffs out Mal’s nose, like they’re too sophisticated for the snort that they really wanted to let loose.

“Why is your truck in the garage?”

Mal shrugs. “A friend and I went to The Juarez last night. Celebrated my final day of working for the biggest dick on the planet, and I decided it would be safest to take a cab home. Then, rather than make the trip into town twice, I just took a cab to Craig and Zach’s.”

“Oh. Right. Well, if you ever need a lift around town, you can always give me a call,” I say, watching the garage barrier rise to let us in like it’s the most fascinating piece of machinery ever invented. I don’t know why that felt like such a big thing to say. Mal directs me to their parking spot.

“Now that I have my own personal superhero on speed dial, you can count on it,” Mal says, and presses a final kiss to my lips on their way out the door. I watch as they perform a funny sideways contortion to lift themself into the tall seat of their truck while wearing that tight skirt. I’m fucking mesmerized by Mal, and I’m honestly not sure that’s such a bad thing.