Essence of Time (20 page)

He tasted coffee, salt, toothpaste, but the feel of a man’s firm hard body under his hands again made him moan and his cock stiffen faster than it had in months. He groaned as Rob put a hand on his zipper, and another to his cheek, stopping the kiss but keeping their lips within centimeters of each other. “I loved watching you sleep.” He whispered, running a rough thumb over Blake’s lower lip.  “But you should probably go.” He stepped back, leaving Blake empty handed.

He slumped, put his hands on his hips. “Sorry.” He mumbled, and turned away. “Can I borrow a shirt? Mine is, ah…” he gasped at the feel of strong hands on his shoulders, turning him back around slowly, pulling him in close. “Oh….”

“Shh…” Rob whispered, before covering his lips, sweeping into his mouth, drowning out the sorrow, the anger, everything but the taste and feel of pure, unadulterated male. He slid his hands down Blake’s back, clutched his ass. As the sounds of their moans when flesh met heat, all he heard was his name, on the lips of the man in his arms. It truly was all he needed to hear.

Rob tried to figure out who had possessed his body, was making him act like a horny teenager, groping this poor kid, this utter stranger…Blake. He moaned at the nearly-forgotten-but-perfect sensation of another man’s body against his. “Mmm...” He broke the kiss, reluctantly, realizing he could likely go his grave and never kiss another man after this. “Blake,” he whispered, fisting his hands in the man’s thick, still-wet hair.

“Yeah,” Blake’s lips traveled down his neck, to his shoulder. He let Blake walk him backwards, push him down on the couch. Rob sat, resisting the urge to touch the bulge under his shorts. A buzzing sound came from somewhere, making an ugly frown mar the face of the amazing young man standing over him. “Hey,” he rubbed a hand over his hair in a gesture that endeared and made Rob want to laugh all at once. The look in the kid’s eyes was priceless as he glared at his phone then back at Rob. “How do you know my name anyway?”

Rob took his hand and pulled him down beside him, ran a hand down his rough face, leaned in for one more amazing taste of his lips.  The kiss drew out, in a mind blowing tangle of lips, tongues, arms and legs. But he stopped, put a hand on Blake’s heaving chest just as the guy was about to yank his shorts off. “Wait. I, uh, don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” Blake flicked one of Rob’s sensitive nipples with tongue. “Pick up drunk guys at beer festivals? Good to know.”  He grunted when Blake’s hand dropped to his aching shaft. Dear god he needed this. He had not felt this intensely about somebody since… “Shit,” he lurched up, stood, putting himself out of Blake’s reach. The young man put his hands behind his head and watched him. Rob drank him in with a long gaze, from the top of his thick hair, down the smooth perfection of his profile, across broad shoulders, down the flat expanse of his stomach to… Anger and lust and embarrassment warred within him, making him wobbly. He took a step back, flopped into the chair opposite the couch when the backs of his legs collided with it.

“Sorry,” Rob swallowed hard, pointed to the clock over the fireplace. “You really should go.”

Unsure why he was doing this but giving in to the panic that enveloped him when he acknowledged how perfect Blake felt. The younger man stood, a puzzled look on his face. “Okay, well. Thanks anyway.” He grabbed the shirt Rob had dropped on the floor in his haste to get at Blake’s lips, and shoved his arms into it. “Rob.” The sound of his name on the man’s lips nearly made him come apart at the seams.
Jesus, Frietag. He’s just a guy
. He pulled himself together and yanked a pair of jeans on and stuck his arms in his shirt, anything really to not look Blake in the eye. If he did that they would never make it to the fucking festival because he’d have the kid bent over the couch so fast his adorable blond head would spin. He gulped back a curse. The smile on Blake’s face was pure, unadulterated sex.

“Let’s go,” he bit the words off unwilling to go anywhere near the kid again. Hoping rudeness would help send a message.

“Okay.” Blake grabbed his soiled shirt from the floor, grimacing at it. “Damn, I was a mess, sorry.” His face actually reddened. Rob gripped the edge of the chair. Holy shit, he was adorable. Blake looked at him. “No wonder you don’t want to—“

“The reason I don’t want to has nothing to do with you getting puke-ass drunk and passing out on my couch. God knows I’ve been there before.” Rob messed around with his phone, his keys, clamping down on the urge to blow off the beer fest and hunker down here, with Blake, forever. He shook his head. Blake tilted his head, stayed quiet. “I, um, gotta go. I have a noon event. You?” Rob choked out.

Blake seemed to be in a daze, then startled, cursed. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Yeah, I have an event in ten minutes.” He looked up and the expression on his face was one Rob would never forget. The mixture of regret, sadness and lust would be something patently “Blake” forever and ever.  “Uh, how far are we?” He rolled up on the balls of his feet, a nervous tick Rob figured he’d had his whole life.

Rob laughed. “I’ll get you there. Don’t worry.” 

Blake watched as Rob slipped his feet into soft leather driving shoes and finished buttoning an oxford cloth shirt emblazoned with the logo of a famous restaurant.

“You know,” Blake sipped a cup of coffee he’d found on a side table. “I could get addicted to you.” Rob shot him an odd look, but then smiled.

“Nah, I’m annoying as hell after a while, I assure you.”

“I thought you were a brewer,” Blake tried to ignore the pinging in his head.

“I was. I mean, I am. But now, I’m a sous chef.” He patted the logo. “But hope to be head chef in about a month, when the asshole ahead of me quits.”

“Where did you learn to brew?” He knew they should go, but wanted to keep talking.

“Detroit River Brewing, a few years ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Rob stopped in front of him, cupped Blake’s chin with his hand. “So, you free tonight?”

“What, you’re gonna take me out on a date?”

“Maybe. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of slut.” Rub grinned, nearly making Blake’s knees buckle.

He tried to keep his voice light. “Ha. Too late. For both of us I’m afraid.” He stood, staying close to Rob’s tall body, tilted his face up to accept the man’s lips once more. “And yes, I’m free. I’ll be even more free after this week.”

“Why is that,” Rob kept his lips close to Blake’s skin, ran long fingers down his throat, making Blake shiver.

“I’m quitting my job. Gonna need to find another one. Somewhere, oh shit, if you keep that up we will never get out of here. Just saying.” He sighed as Rob stepped away.

“Quitting?” Rob stepped back, ran a hand over his face. “What for?”

“Ah, you don’t want my sob story, trust me,” and for some reason he had no desire to share it. All he wanted now was more of this man. And he planned to get a lot more of it. Tonight. Anything to quell the anxiety that was starting to rise in his gut at the thought of hitting that damn festival again.

“Fine. So about that date…” Rob gave him a long look.

Blake grinned and buttoned up the shirt Rob had loaned him. “Sure.” He grabbed Rob’s phone and programmed his number in it. “But a warning, fair Robert.” He smiled as the man glanced over at him. “I am in no position to give much more than…”

“Say no more, dear Blake.” Rob swept him into a hug that included the lovely sensation of the man’s half hard cock pressed into his own. “I don’t do relationships. Not anymore.”

“So we are on the same page then,” Blake broke away, laced up his shoes. His heart pounded hard, then calmed. “I will say, I like you so far and I’m absolutely not in the market for a relationship. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”

Rob had gone back and retrieved his Jeep earlier in the day, parked it by the curb risking all manner of expensive tickets. But today seemed to be his day as the windshield was devoid of violations. Blake climbed into the passenger seat, conversing with someone on the phone, making assurances. “Yeah, yeah, Cal, tell Evan I’ll be there in…” He glanced up at Rob. But Rob had stopped thinking after hearing the name Evan.
Holy shit.
He gripped the steering wheel, reliving his brief text exchange with Jack the week before.

Blake. Evan. Suzanne. This was the guy. The one she had…

“Fuck. Me.” He muttered, truly astonished at the small world he inhabited. He snuck a glance over at Blake, taking in the near physical perfection of his profile.
Yep. Nice one
.
Drop him off, let it go. Forever. This is not a minefield you want to traverse.
That whole thing had imploded leaving his friends shattered, and this kid, well, according to Jack, he’d been blindsided and dealt a near fatal blow, emotionally speaking, by their old friend.

That would account for the sadness in his eyes.

Rob gritted his teeth and pulled into the vendor parking for the event, already crowded with various trucks and trailers supplying the huge festival. Blake sat a second, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Get some food,” Rob advised. “As many complex carbs as you can. It will help soak up the rest of the…” He stopped, surprised by the hand on his shoulder that slid up his neck, pulling him close.

“You are amazing, Rob,” Blake whispered. The world narrowed, became two people. Rob smiled, allowed himself a brief brush of lips before pulling away.

“Not really,” he insisted. “You needed help. I gave it. You good now?” Everything in him screamed for more; to touch, kiss, take away the awful edge of pain in Blake’s eyes. It was an odd feeling, and one he didn’t necessarily care for. So, he climbed out of the Jeep, waved at Blake who still sat, seemingly shell-shocked before moving into the crowd, putting as much distance between them as he could.  He had a second of panic, then gripped the phone in his pocket. The phone Blake had put his number in. Missing the kid already, and smacking himself for initiating a date he’d have to break he stomped away, trying to forget him already.

Part III:  Rob and Blake

Chapter One

Blake took a long breath. The day had been a blur of what he kept excusing as hangover recovery but was really more like “holy shit I gotta see that guy again-itis.” His his head pounded, and he kept looking up from either his tasting tables or their company’s booth hoping to catch sight of those chocolate brown eyes, that amazing shock of white blond hair. Rob. He shivered. By six o’clock however, exhaustion stole over him and with it came despair. The sadness born of loss that he’d been clutching close for so long. But for some reason, it was not as acute as usual and when his phone buzzed with a text, he knew it had to be.

Rob:  “Hey. You ok?”
Blake started to type a reply, then smiled at the next message.
“Oh, Rob here btw.”

“
Whew. Thought it might be my other stalker.”

“Very funny.”

He got no reply, and the tension nearly killed him.  After six long hours of standing, talking, tasting, explaining, talking and explaining some more, his feet and throat ached. He shifted from foot to foot, keeping an eye on his phone. Realizing that for the first time in months he wasn’t obsessively checking for a message from Suzanne, but from Rob, he smiled at himself.

“She must have been hot stuff boss,” Cal handed him a cup of a stout from the next table over. Blake set it down. He was still weak in the stomach from yesterday’s over indulgence.

“What? Oh, yeah, it was, ah, intense.” He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You know me, got one in every port.”

“I’ll tell ya Blake, that may not be true but we are all relieved you are getting over Suzanne. That whole thing,” he made a circling motion with his finger. “
Muy caliente
and
muy loco
. You’re better off without her.” Blake shot him a look and the guy had the good sense to blush and look away. “She is a fine woman, Blake. But too many issues. You’re a young man, with lots of good years ahead of you…”

“I get you,” Blake muttered, squinting into the later afternoon sunlight, a sudden tightening in his chest at the realization that his relationship with Suzanne was fodder for company discussion. His phone buzzed and he grinned as he saw the message from Rob:
“I’m done here. Heading to the market, then home. Will make dinner. Remember, I am not doing this to impress you. But would welcome your company. You know the address.”

He typed out a quick reply: 
“I don’t impress easily. And am starving. Will see you in about an hour.”
He stared at the screen a minute longer, then typed one more word:
“Thanks.”

The reply came back fast:
“What was I going to do? Leave you lying in your own puke on the street? Give me some credit.”

Blake smiled as he tapped his reply.
“I do. Although I did think you could have been a serial killer, preying on young drunk men.”

“For all you know, I still am. Maybe I like to play with my food before I eat it.”
Rob shot back.

“Well, if your play continues as it started I shall die a happy man.”

“Then get your ass over here. Soon.”

It took a couple of hours to wrap everything up and break free. By the time they had the bar broken down and loaded into the trailer, Blake was surprised to find himself antsy with anticipation of Rob—his lips, hands, and more. The guy was funny, hotter than any many had a right to be, and Blake couldn’t wait to get back to him. He knew his heart was seeking something to fill the black hole Suzanne had left there, but he’d have that discussion with Rob again, tonight. No relationships. Just some seriously hot sex, and a lot of good food—the guy was a French-trained chef after all. He smiled, waved at the crew from Big House and climbed into his truck, headed in the opposite direction of Ann Arbor.

Before he knew it he stood at the door as mouthwatering smells drifted past him. Garlic, oil, something tangy, all reminded him he had not really eaten much that day. Rob’s advice about finding the breadiest possible food had been well taken, but the reality of an event like today's meant little time to yourself, and certainly not much to eat. His body pulsed like one huge, exposed nerve ending. And he wasn’t positive which urge was the strongest, to eat or to fuck.