Microsoft Word - Taxes_and_TARDIS-NR_Walker.doc (10 page)

I told him it was fine. Even as much as her words

stung, she did have his best interests at heart. And in a way, I was glad someone looked out for him.

He apologized
again
. I told him it was fine,
again,
and laughed. "Logan, really, it's all good."

"You don't think ill of me because of what she said?"

I answered directly, adamantly. "No. Never." Then I changed the subject. "So when can I see you again?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," he said. "We're going computer shopping."

"Oh," I laughed. "That laptop thing again?"

I swear I could hear him roll his eyes. "Yes, Brent."

I laughed again. "Will you come back to my place and help me set it up?"

"Of course."

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"Will you stay the night?" I asked. "Ple-e-e-e-ase?"

He laughed. "Just how many beers did you have?"

I chuckled again. "Only about five or so."

He sighed. "Will you whine about setting up your accounts?"

"No," I lied.

"Will you pay attention while I explain

everything?"

"Yes," I lied again.

"You're a terrible liar."

I laughed again. "Will you stay?"

"Yes."

* * * *

I was supposed to meet Logan at the electronics

store and was running too late to go home and change. So I turned up in my work boots and dirty work clothes. I brushed as much dust and as many cobwebs off me as I could before I walked in, but I was still pretty dirty.

I walked in, grinned at the sales people and scanned the large floor. The store was busy enough with customers and staff everywhere and all types of technological stuff I'd never seen before as well as the accessories to go with it.

And then I saw him.

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Standing across the floor from me, facing the wall lined with laptops, he wore dark gray pants, his black vest, and his TARDIS blue shirt. I grinned. And my cock

twitched.

I made my way over to him, and just a few feet

short, a salesgirl stopped me. She stood between Logan and me. "Hello," she said breathily. She very deliberately raked her gaze from my boots to my face. "How can I help you?"

I think she was trying to be seductive. I almost laughed.

"Um," I hedged, "you can't help me. Only he can." I gave a pointed nod to the man behind her, who was smiling at me. I stepped around her and stood right next to Logan.

"Hey," I said softly. "Sorry I'm late, and dirty. I didn't have time to get changed."

Compared to him, I was a mess, but he smiled

beautifully. Fuck, I wanted to kiss him. He looked me over and reached up to pull a tuft of spider web from my hair. I took it from him, and he looked down at my hand. And gasped.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. His accent seemed more pronounced. He took my hand in both of his. "What happened?"

I looked at my bloodied knuckles and shrugged.

"Oh, I was under a floor and had my hand jammed against a joist, pulling on cables, and I kept banging my hand."

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He looked alarmed. "Does it hurt?"

"Nope." I shook my head no. "Just one of the disadvantages of having big hands."

Logan smirked and whispered, "Believe me, there are
no
disadvantages to you having big hands."

The salesgirl behind us cleared her throat, and we both jumped, startled. I'd forgotten all about her. She looked at us, all smiles and twinkling eyes. "Can I help you guys with anything? To do with computers?"

I laughed and stood aside. "Um, Logan?"

"This is your laptop," he said with a smile. "You need to have some input."

I grinned at him. "I really like that blue shirt on you."

The salesgirl giggled, and Logan rolled his eyes,

ignoring me completely. Then he launched into some spiel on deals for laptops, and I just stopped listening after he started on about processors and compatibility. But it was awesome to watch. It was soon pretty obvious he knew more about all things technological than the salesgirl, and it really didn't take us very long.

We were back at my place less than an hour later.

And for the next hour or so, we set everything up, and Logan showed me the basics. He started with

spreadsheets, saying there was no point in getting me used

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to complicated software. I agreed wholeheartedly, even though I thought spreadsheets looked complicated enough.

He set up monthly sheets with expenses and taxes

that somehow calculated formulas to total everything and promised me all I had to do was enter amounts.

By the second hour, I was hungry and horny, and

having Logan so damn close to me was too big a

distraction. And far too tempting.

He sat at the table facing the laptop, and I sat

sideways, facing him. I leaned in, getting closer and closer, until my nose traced the side of his neck. "You have the most beautiful skin," I murmured, and he moaned quietly.

"Brent," he groaned, "we need to finish this."

I kissed along the side and back of his neck and

hummed. "Mmm, the way your hair curls at the back of your neck. The way you smell. Have I mentioned how much I like this shirt on you?"

Logan turned in his chair. His eyes were dark, and he licked his lips. And I knew our computer time was done.

I stood up, pulled out my wallet and threw it on the table.

"Hey, Tim?" I called out to my housemate, who was watching TV. "There's money for dinner. Order if you want something. We'll be busy for a while."

Taking his hand, I led Logan into my room. "I can't make you come five times in one day then not at all for two

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days," I told him very seriously, kissing his lips, jaw, and neck. "That's not right."

I pulled his vest off, unbuttoned his shirt, then undid his pants. I slid my hand into his briefs and stroked him, hard.

"I need you," I told him. "I really need to be inside you."

He leaned into me, thrusting his hips into my fist, and he moaned. "Oh, God, yes. Now, baby. Now."

I turned him around and bent him over the bed. I

pulled his pants down over his ass and quickly undid my work pants. With his pants around his thighs, and mine still on my hips, I rolled a condom on, slicked my cock then his ass with lube, prepping him crudely before I pressed the head against his hole. "You sure, baby?"

"Yessss," he groaned, fisting the bed covers and trying to push his ass against me. "Please."

So I pushed inside him. In one swift thrust, I was completely sheathed in him. He moaned like I'd never heard from him before. The sounds that escaped him, oh, God, what those sounds did to me. They spurred me on, urged me, begged me to thrust and fuck, to pump him harder, harder, harder.

Anything to hear him moan like that.

And when I leaned over him, pushing every inch of

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my cock into his tight hole, I rolled my hips, making him groan low and loud. There was something about the

urgency, about the pure need—we were still both dressed with our pants around our thighs—and I knew he felt it too.

He was raising his hips off the edge of the bed to meet me, moaning and begging.

"Pump yourself," I urged him, unable to take my hands from his hips.

He came after only a few strokes, and when I finally erupted into the condom, he collapsed under me, exhausted, sated, chuckling.

I kissed his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Mmm," he hummed. "Better than okay."

I chuckled with him, nipping at his shirt. "It's this TARDIS shirt. It does something to me."

He laughed under me. We eventually got up,

showered, and ate some of the pizza Tim had ordered for dinner, only to go back to bed. We didn't do anything sexual, just lay in bed with him tucked into my arms.

"Hey, babe?" I asked.

He was tracing circles around my nipples with his

fingertip. "Yeah?"

"I want you to come with me on Friday night to meet the guys."

His fingers stopped on my chest. "You do?"

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I nodded. "Yeah."

He sighed, and after a long beat of silence, he said,

"Okay."

* * * *

Logan came over again on Tuesday night to help

me sort my accounts on my new laptop. He spent time talking and laughing with Tim while I did all the typing, but he didn't stay the night. And then on Wednesday and Thursday, I only spoke to him on the phone.

By Friday night, I was itching to see him. And he

was nervous as hell about meeting my friends. Even though he said he wasn't, I could tell he was. He spent ten minutes ranting to me over the phone about what the hell to wear. I laughed, which didn't help the situation, and in the end, I told him to just be himself. "Just come to the bar straight from work," I suggested, and he sighed.

I told him he didn't have to come if he didn't want to, but he swore he'd be there. He'd meet me there around six.

Tim and I got there around five-thirty, and the after-work crowd was filing in. The place was kind of a sports bar with screens showing various sports channels and a good mix of people—gay and straight, students and

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professionals.

We grabbed a table, and Marty and Saul arrived

soon after. They were surprised to see me there. Marty said,

"Oh, no boyfriend tonight?"

I smiled at him. "He's meeting us here."

Marty's mouth fell open, but he recovered quickly

with, "That's good. I want to meet the man who snagged you."

I put down my beer. "Look," I huffed, "be nice to him, Marty, or fuck off and go home."

He blinked, shocked at my tone. "Jeez, Brent. So touchy."

Tim intervened, talking about work and whatever

else, while I kept my eye on the door. The place was getting full with its usual Friday night crowd, and at about ten to six, I spotted him.

I grinned. "There he is," I mumbled more to myself than anyone else, and made my way over to get him. He was wearing his dark gray pants and a black jacket. His dark hair and black-rimmed glasses made his skin look even paler and his lips even more pink than usual. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

"Hey," I said, still smiling. I leaned in and kissed him quickly.

His gaze darted around us, and he blushed. "Hey."

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I took his hand. "Come on, they're over here," I said, leading our way through the crowd. And when we got to the table, Tim grinned through his hellos and offered to get him a drink. Marty and Saul just stared.

"Logan," I said, making introductions, "this is Saul." They exchanged polite hellos, and then with a pointed stare, I said, "And this is Marty."

Marty was polite enough. Too polite for my liking, as though he found Logan amusing. And not in a good way.

But he wasn't down-and-out rude, so I just made sure there was a safe distance between them.

We spent most of the night just chatting, and after a few drinks, Logan seemed to relax. He was laughing with Tim and Saul over something, which is why I didn't think twice about leaving the table to take a piss. I simply gave Logan's hand a squeeze and told him I'd only be a minute.

Except what I didn't know was when I'd gone to the restroom, Tim had gone to the bar and Saul got chatting with an old school friend, which left Logan alone with Marty.

I walked out of the restroom, and looking over at

Logan, I saw the look on his face. It was like slow motion, with no sound. I could see the hurt on Logan's face as he stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. I could see Tim back at the table, trying to talk to Logan, then

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turning and pointing his finger and cussing at Marty.

I made my way over to them through the crowd,

probably knocking a few people too roughly, only to hear Logan say he was leaving.

I slid my hand around his waist, about to ask him

what had been said, but he stepped away from me.

"I thought you were different," he said to the ground. As he turned to leave, even over the noise of the bar, I heard him just fine. "God, I should have known better."

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"Logan, wait!" I cried, grabbing his arm. "Don't go."

He shucked off my hand, and ignoring me, he wove

his way through the crowd toward the exit. I turned back to Marty and yelled, "What the hell did you say to him?"

Marty stood up from his chair. "What someone

should have said to him weeks ago."

Tim put his hand on my shoulder. I thought it was

to calm me down, but it wasn't. Tim looked at me then and said, "Marty told Logan you were only fucking him to get tax benefits."

I gripped the table so I didn't close my fist and

punch him. I wanted to. Fuck I wanted to, but I wanted to go after Logan even more. I turned to leave and had taken only two steps when Marty called out, "He was a fucking queen, anyway."