Three weeks had passed since Ty watched that scene in Spencer’s room. For the first week, he found it hard to look Spencer in the eye and made up excuses about having to work longer hours to fix a problem with a client’s computer system. He knew Spencer would see through the lie, but thankfully, he didn’t call Ty out on it.
That unexpected night kept running laps in Ty’s brain until he was exhausted. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Spencer standing there naked, flogger in hand. Yeah, he’d done his research; Spencer had used a flogger on that guy. It shamefully made Ty hot just thinking about it. He must have jacked off to that image at least five times that first week and at least eight more times throughout the two weeks following that. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was not gay. He’d been attracted to women for as long he could remember. But watching Spencer that night, Ty had the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. What did that say about him? He didn’t want to know the answer, so he’d done his best to avoid seeing Spencer. After the first week though, Ty knew he was calling attention to himself, and Spencer was beginning to sense there was something wrong.
Ty couldn’t tell if he was happy or disappointed that Spencer hadn’t had anyone over since that night. It didn’t matter anyway. It was a mistake that he’d left the door open to begin with; Spencer had never done that before and wasn’t likely to do it again.
“You look deep in thought. You okay, man? You’ve been weird lately.” The object of Ty’s active imagination walked into the living room and sat on the other end of the couch from Ty. His heart raced as he imagined Spencer being able to see into his mind. What would Spencer do if he could see what Ty had been thinking about?
“Ty! Dude, what is up with you?” Spencer questioned him, worry clear on his face.
“Uh…nothing. No, I’m good, man. Just tired, that’s all.” Ty forced himself to meet Spencer’s Caribbean blue eyes. When the hell did he start noticing how blue Spencer’s eyes were? Mentally slapping himself, Ty tried to get it together.
“You’re still going to Eric’s for the Super Bowl tonight, right?” Spencer asked as he reached for the remote control. Ty watched Spencer turn the television on and put his feet up on the coffee table. He seemed to notice every move Spencer made now. It was freaking him the fuck out.
“Yeah, I’m going.”
“Care to make a little wager?” Spencer shot Ty a sly grin, and immediately, anxiety coursed through Ty’s body.
“What kind of wager?” Jesus, why the hell was his heart pounding?
“Well, seeing as you’ve decided to make a fool of yourself and back New England for the win, I say let’s make it interesting…since I know I’ll be winning this one.” Spencer winked at him, making Ty’s competitive side stand at attention.
“Spence, there’s no way Denver’s going to win this one, so what part of your dignity do you want to lose?” Ty challenged, feeling a little more like himself.
“How about loser has to clean the house and do the grocery shopping for a month?”
“Lame! I thought you said you wanted this to be something interesting,” Ty mocked.
“Okay, okay, fine.” Spencer sat there thinking. “How about this? Loser has to be the winner’s servant for three weeks.”
“With no limits,” Ty added before he could stop his diarrhea of the mouth. What the hell did he just say? What did that even mean? Oh, no. Oh, no…stop looking at me like I grew a fucking third eye.
“No limits? Like…none?” Spencer raised his eyebrows.
Ty could feel his face turning the color of a very ripe strawberry. Just about to backpedal, he opened his mouth. “I—”
“Deal,” Spencer cut him off, looking him dead in the eyes.
Ty’s heart was pounding so loudly he thought maybe he’d heard wrong. What the hell did they just agree to? And what the hell did Ty really think he’d make Spencer do if he won? What if he lost? He knew exactly what he was thinking about when he’d said no limits. Pictures of being tied to his bed naked while Spencer whipped him flashed across his mind. What the fuck is wrong with me? Jesus, Ty felt sick to his stomach because he knew he couldn’t take it back. He was sweating profusely as he ran a hand over his short brown hair.
“Ty?” Spencer waved his hand in front of Ty’s face.
Snap the fuck out of it, Ty, he silently scolded himself. Get a fucking grip. He’s not thinking the same thing you are.
“Deal.” He held out his hand to shake on it.
Spencer shook it, and something flashed across his face. Ty wasn’t sure what it was, but uneasiness coursed through his veins at the possibilities.
A few hours later, Ty stared at Eric’s TV screen, his knee bouncing uncontrollably as he sat on the couch. Never in his life had he been so unsure of how he wanted a damn Super Bowl game to end. Wiping his palms on his jeans, he glanced at Spencer out of the corner of his eye, but when Spencer met his gaze and gave him a strange look, Ty quickly shifted his eyes back to the screen.
Of course, Denver and New England went into overtime—because they couldn’t put Ty out of his fucking misery already. Now, the only thing between him and…and what?
“Yeah, bitch!” Spencer shoved Ty’s arm as Ty stared wide-eyed at the score.
He’d lost. He’d fucking lost the bet.
Starting tomorrow, he was Spencer’s servant for three whole weeks…no limits. What would Spencer make him do? The possibilities sent a thrill through Ty. He knew he was fucked. At least, I hope I’ll be… As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Ty whipped his head in the direction of Spencer, and a sly grin lit Spencer’s face. Yeah, either way, I’m screwed.