All Snug E-Book

B.G. Thomas

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 88

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2010

Beschreibung

Elliot and Shawn each want to buy the same one-of-a-kind item for Christmas—a very old and expensive antique bed—as a gift for their lovers. But when they both arrive at the store at the same moment, the proprietor tells them to figure out between themselves who gets the bed. Elliot and Shawn decide to hold a contest: winner buys bed. And so the competitions begin, from selling charity tickets to cleaning out stables, and interpersonal tension and burgeoning attraction mount as the days until Christmas pass. But who deserves the gift more: Elliot, who can afford the expensive gift for his casual sex partner, or Shawn, who can barely cover rent, and the mysterious man he's head-over-heels for?

Leseprobe

Dedication

For Raymond, for ten years—

and for the idea for this story...

I love you!

All Snug

THE more I thought about it, the more I knew I had to have the bed. My boyfriend wanted it. It was Christmas. And while it was a bit overpriced, I could afford it. Steve on the other hand, could not.

I’d thought about it for two weeks, and when Steve casually mentioned it was still at the antique store, I made up my mind. It was perhaps an excessive gift for a man I’d been dating for less than two months, but when I thought about what Steve and I would do in that bed, the scales were tipped.

A call to the antique store the night before told me the bed was still available. So it was quite a surprise when I arrived at Derringer’s early the next morning and asked for the large, oak four-poster bed at the very same time as another customer. The look on both the proprietor’s and the other man’s faces (and my own, I’m sure, had I been able to see it) were quite comedic really. Like they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Oh, my,” said Mr. Derringer, the owner of the store. “I haven’t had anything like this happen in a long time. And it’s been sitting there two months.”

The other man, youngish, slim, with dark hair and pretty, wide startled eyes, looked like he might cry. “I… I think I was here first,” he said.

“I’m not sure,” Mr. Derringer said, adjusting his glasses.

“I did call last night,” I reminded Mr. Derringer. He knew me; I’d bought a few things from him in the past, most of them costly: a standing lamp, an oil painting, and a few other odd items (more than one with a rather naughty touch).

“So you did, so you did,” he said, looking up, down, but not seeming to want to look at either of us. “But, ah, you didn’t ask me to hold it.”

“So?” asked the young man. “Does that mean I get it or not?” He looked like he was about to go into fight or flight mode. Which would it be? I wondered.

Mr. Derringer, nervous thing that he was, began to shake, fumbled with some papers on his desk, removed his glasses and began cleaning them. He looked back and forth between us. “You both approached me at the same time,” he said in that spineless voice of his. He drove me near insane he could be so insipid. But he also found things that no one else could. He had a gift for it.

“I’ve got my card out!” the young man practically shouted.

“I’ll pay cash,” I pressed. This was ridiculous, and I didn’t want to be here all day. I did need to get to the office at some point.

“Cash?” asked Mr. Derringer, his little eyes focusing on me.

I liked the sound of Derringer’s voice now. Holiday season or not, cash was always good, and who knew if the young man could even afford the bed. His peacoat looked worn, his pants with tattered cuffs were just a little too long, and his shoes had certainly seen better days.

“I don’t see why that makes any difference,” said the young man. “What do you usually do in a situation like this?”

“I…” said Mr. Derringer, “I could use the cash.”

“I’ll give you an extra hundred,” I said and pulled out a roll of bills.

“No!” yelled the young man. “You can’t do that!”

“I can,” I said. “Do we have a deal, Mr. Derringer?”

“I’m sorry, young man,” Mr. Derringer apologized, staring at my cash like he was starving.

The young man turned to me. “Look, I really want that bed,” he said, his eyes wide and pleading. “The… person I’m seeing really wants it. Anything else would just be a letdown.”

Person? I smiled at the lack of pronoun and wondered if that “person” was another man.

“I went through hell to get the money,” he continued. “There isn’t anything else I want. It’s really important to me. Please.”

Oh, those eyes, I thought. Like a big puppy dog, but blue instead of brown. This young man was just too sweet.

But why did that matter? I really wanted the bed as well. Steve had a reason for wanting a four-poster bed, and the idea caused my dick to twitch right there in that little store. Steve was just crazy in the bedroom, any room for that matter. I’d never known a man with such a sexual imagination. My whole adult life had seemed to be filled with men who considered tickling to be kinky. They’d given the word “vanilla” a whole new definition. I’d resigned myself to sexual mediocrity, and then Steve had shown up in my life. Finally, I’d met someone with an erotic imagination to put mine to shame, a man who wanted to fulfill my every fantasy.

Yet the kid looking at me, and he didn’t seem to be much more than a kid, really did look like a puppy. One who’d been kicked just a few times too many and was expecting me to kick him as well.

Shit.

“I am going to let you two decide,” said Mr. Derringer. “I have a few calls to make. You two work it out.” He turned and practically fled the room.

“Please?” the young man asked again.

Please? Did he say “please”? I almost laughed, but knew it would hurt the man’s feelings. I bet if I had shouted out “boo” at that moment, the kid might have wet himself. Shit. It would be like kicking a pup. I glanced down at my watch. Oh, to hell with the office, I thought. It wasn’t going anywhere. This young man intrigued me. “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Let’s go have some coffee and talk about this. We’ll both present our case and see if one of us can talk the other one out of it.”

“I… I….” The young man paused and then seemed to make up his mind. “All right,” he said, nodding.

I went to find Derringer. “We’ll be back. Don’t sell that bed, you hear me?” I said.

Mr. Derringer heard me. Most people did.

WESATdown at a small table outside The Radiant Cup, my pick as the best coffee shop in Kansas City. I loved everything they made, especially their lattes. The young man had some hot chocolate—cheapest thing on the menu—and when he’d paid his bill, counting out his money almost to pennies, it only confirmed my suspicions that this guy had no business buying such an expensive gift.

I took a sip of my latte. Wonderful. Perfect as usual. “You’ve been here before?” I asked.

“Nah, I usually just make my own.” The young man laughed. “I can buy a can of coffee at Aldi’s for what a cup costs here.”

I nodded. Yes, I was right. “Maybe,” I said. “But then it is Aldi’s coffee. You get what you pay for.”

“And I want to pay for that bed,” he said excitedly.

“I don’t think you can really afford it. Am I right… what is your name?”

“Shawn,” he answered.

“I’m Elliot. Shawn, I’m thinking you’ve got yourself in hock to your eyebrows trying to buy that bed. That ‘person’ you are buying it for. They know it, too, I bet.”

“Maybe,” Shawn said, chin out. “But it sure is going to shock the shit out of him when I get it.”

I raised my brows despite myself.

“Yeah,” Shawn said defensively. “‘He.’ I’m gay! You think just because you’d be having straight sex in it that you should have the bed?”

“Whoa,” I said. “Let’s not even go there. For one thing, I’m gay too.” I surprised myself at making the admission. Not that I was ashamed, but I kept my private life private. There could be many an important deal lost because of how some bigots felt about gays.

“You are?” Shawn asked, obviously surprised. “Gosh. You don’t look it.”

I laughed. Didn’t look it? Was this guy for real? “You don’t ‘look’ particularly gay yourself, Shawn.”

Shawn blushed. It was a most delightful shade of pink. “You’re just so… big. I think your arms are bigger than my thighs.”

I laughed again. “Not quite,” I said. “I just like to keep myself in shape. It’s amazing what you can do with a personal trainer keeping on your ass. And there is nothing wrong with your thighs.” Now what the hell had made me say that?

Shawn went even more red and tried to hide his expression by taking a long sip of his hot chocolate. I don’t know if was his blush or the morning sun, but I was again noticing just how blue his eyes were. Was he wearing contacts? They were the most amazing color. And huge. Otherworldly.

He really was sweet. Like a kid, but the more I looked at Shawn the more I could see he was no kid. Surely no more than about thirty, but all man. Handsome too. His skin was pale, and it really brought out the shadow of a threatening beard along his jaw. Maybe it was that complexion that made his eyes look so blue? “How long have you been out?” I asked.

Shawn almost spit out his chocolate. “What? Why do you ask?”

“This guy you are seeing, is he your first boyfriend?”

“My second,” he said, chin out again.

“You just come out recently?”

“Why do you want to know that?” Shawn asked.

I shrugged. “You seem so naïve. How old are you?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions for a guy trying to talk me out of buying that bed.”

“Just trying to get the lay of the land,” I said. It was what I did. How I’d become so successful.

“I’m thirty-two. And how old are you, oh Master Yoda?”

It was my turn to nearly spit out my coffee. Master Yoda? “I’m thirty-nine,” I said. “And I’ve been out since I was fourteen, so I guess I know a few things.”

“Fourteen?” gasped Shawn, and once again did that thing with his eyes. Made them look huge.

Oh, if we weren’t both already taken, I thought, I’d take you home right now.

“You knew you were gay when you were fourteen?” Shawn asked again.

I nodded. “Coach Brennermyer—”

“The coach—!”

“No!” I said. “No. He never touched me. But his thighs! One look at him in those shorts of his, and Janet, my ‘girlfriend’ never had a chance.” As a matter-of-fact, it was the coach that had inspired me to get myself in the shape I was in. I liked my body. It made up for what I considered a boring face—light brown eyes, big nose, lantern jaw—and it surprised me when a trick told me it was my looks and not my body that had gotten them interested.

Shawn reddened again.