Risk Is a Four-Letter Word (5 page)

"Eric? I'm really sorry," Zeke began
as he followed his friend into the house.

Eric threw him a disgusted look and kicked the
door shut. "You're an idiot, Zeke."

He sure was. Zeke grimaced and stood there, not
even taking off his jacket. Eric carelessly threw his keys down on the side
table for the first time in Zeke's memory. What the hell? His friend was
obsessive about the finish and that piece was one of the first things they'd
made together. Zeke rubbed his face as he looked around the living room, saying
a mental goodbye to his favorite space in the house.

He thought about how Eric had always been there
for him when he was a kid, through the worst of his dad's frenzies. How Eric
let him sleep over when Zeke's dad kicked him out. That happened a lot before
his dad finally took off and his mom divorced the loser. Eric was his best
friend in the world. Zeke didn't know what he would do without him.

I have to
say something
. He opened his mouth to apologize
again, but before he could make a sound, Eric had his hands in his jacket. Zeke
flinched, trying to pull away, thinking Eric was going to hit him for sure.
Oh shit
, he thought, already bracing
himself, but instead of punching him, Eric yanked him closer. Zeke didn't even
have the chance to catch his breath before Eric's lips fell on his. Zeke
panicked for a split second and then instinct took over.

Eric's lips were soft at first, then demanding.
Zeke opened his mouth, shocked, and Eric licked inside, making little sounds of
satisfaction.
Holy
shit.
Is this happening?
Zeke thought, confused as hell.
Eric kissed him and kissed
him until his legs started to give out. Eric let him up for air and Zeke locked
his knees for the second time in one day as he stared at his friend, stupefied.

"You thought I was straight? I thought
you
were straight!" Eric said
hoarsely. "We're both idiots.
Total fucking
morons."
He dived in again before Zeke could say a damn thing.

Several minutes later, Zeke shoved away, trying
to breathe. "You're not straight?"

Eric rolled his eyes.
"Duh."
He thrust his hips at Zeke, making sure his erection slid across Zeke's aching
cock. Zeke jumped as the contact sent sparks up his spine.
Jesus
.

"But, you liked Carrie. You wanted to kiss
her. I was there," Zeke said.

"So did you." Eric nibbled down
Zeke's jaw. "This jacket is stupid." He shoved at Zeke's arms,
pushing the brown canvas down and off until Zeke was in just his t-shirt.

"But I'm bi," Zeke said. "That's
why I also like Carrie," he explained as he wrapped his arms around Eric.
He wasn't about to let go now. He wanted more.
Another kiss,
at least.
Even if Eric decked him later.
He
snaked a hand under the waistband of Eric's jeans, savoring the hot, smooth
skin that met his fingertips.
Might as well cop as much of a
feel as he could now, before all hell broke loose.

"Oh, my God, Zeke.
Shut up. I'm bi, too. You are so clueless," Eric growled,
biting his neck. Zeke's heart banged against his ribs so hard, he was afraid it
might break something. Eric was bi, too? How did he not know this?

"How the hell did I not know that?"
he asked around Eric's kisses.

Eric snorted. "How did I not know
you
were bi?" He gnawed on Zeke's neck, making him shudder. "I'll tell
you how. Because we're both total fucking morons. Ok? That's how." Eric
kissed him again and Zeke couldn't make his mouth form any more coherent
sentences. He grabbed Eric's hair and held on. If Eric was bi and Zeke was bi,
why the hell were they still standing in the living room with all their clothes
on?

"Why the hell are we standing in here with
all our clothes on?" Eric asked when Zeke let him up for air.

Zeke grinned and grabbed Eric's arm, propelling
him to the stairs. "Because we're fucking morons, remember?"

Five minutes later, he had Eric on his bed,
shirt off, jeans unbuttoned. His hand cupped Eric's sizeable cock through his
underwear, fingers teasing at the crown. Eric was huge. Zeke's mouth watered
with anticipation.

Eric threw his head back.
"Fucking
morons, both of us.
Yeah.
Right there.
Oh man,
Zeke, you've got magic fingers."

Zeke laughed, trying to ignore the pressure of
his pants' zipper against his dick.
Yeah, no
.
That hurts
.
He gave up and unbuttoned it.
"Yeah.
That's what
you can call me from now on.
Magic fingers."

"Fuck you," Eric moaned as Zeke
slipped his boxers and jeans down to his thighs. Eric
lay
spread out beneath him, all gorgeous muscles and a lovely hard cock just
begging for Zeke's mouth. He licked his lips, starting to feel lightheaded.

"Jesus, Zeke. Don't just stare."

"I'm kind of going on instinct here, Eric.
I'm only theoretically
bi
. I haven't actually done
this before." Zeke slid his hand over Eric's erection, savoring the
delicious heat.

"Theoretically?
Yeah, whatever, I don't give a fuck," Eric mumbled. "God,
get down here." He reached up and yanked Zeke on top of him, hissing when
Zeke's jeans scraped at his hip. "Get these off. Fuck, we're bad at this.
I haven't done this before either, as you can tell." Eric pulled and
shoved and between the two of them they managed to get rid of their pants. Zeke
was too impatient to let Eric pull off his shirt, diving back in and kissing
him as if he was starving. Hell, he
was
starving.

"You taste so fucking good." Zeke
mouthed at Eric's neck, inhaling the clean scent of healthy, warm male. He slid
a hand down and wrapped it around their cocks, sliding them together. He lost
his grip, cursing when Eric bucked. He tried again, but Eric clamped his hands
on Zeke's hips, thrusting against him, dick hot against Zeke's hip and abdomen.
Zeke couldn't think. He grabbed onto Eric's shoulders and held on, the friction
from his friend's movements just enough to get him off. A couple more thrusts
and Zeke came all over Eric. Eric froze,
then
moaned.
Impossibly, Zeke's prick twitched, forcing yet another stab of pleasure through
him. Eric shuddered, hands still clamped on Zeke's hips as he came, too.

Eventually, Eric pried his hands off Zeke's
hips and settled them on his back, running them up and down soothingly. Zeke
had collapsed on his friend, head tucked into Eric's neck. He was too exhausted
and relaxed to move. Hell, he could hardly breathe even though it had to be at
least ten minutes post orgasm.

"What.
The.
Fuck," Eric finally said. He sounded dumbfounded.

Zeke chuckled helplessly. "We didn't quite
manage that."

Eric huffed. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I
meant, how the bloody hell did we miss this all these years?"

With inhuman effort, Zeke managed to roll off,
sliding to the side. He grimaced at the stickiness just starting to dry on his
abdomen and hips. "Well. I suppose we were both in denial."

Eric leaned over and grabbed his boxers,
dabbing ineffectually at the mess on his stomach. When he was through, he
tossed them at Zeke, who eyed the damp cloth dubiously. "It's not going to
bite you."

Zeke shrugged and wiped himself clean then
rolled over and tucked himself back against Eric. He couldn't pretend this
didn't happen. "I didn't tell you how I felt because I was afraid you
would freak."

Eric shifted until his arm was beneath Zeke's
head. "You thought I would freak? When have I ever been homophobic?"

Zeke rolled his eyes. "I wasn't worried
that you were homophobic over me being attracted to some random guy, I was
worried you would deck me if you knew I was attracted to you, specifically. I
was afraid to risk it."

Eric cleared his throat. "Ah."

"Ah? That's it? That's all you have to
say?" Zeke snorted.
The
dumbass
.

"Um, ditto?"

Zeke laughed helplessly.
"Ditto?
To everything?
Jesus fuck, we've trapped ourselves in
some ridiculous chick flick!"

Eric pulled away, glaring at Zeke. Zeke
couldn't help it, he laughed harder. It was too absurd. Over twenty years of
friendship, five years living and working together, and neither of them had the
balls to man up and admit a damn thing about their feelings. Even now, the best
Eric could manage was a gruff "ditto."

"We're such fucking morons!" The
hilarity of the situation made it impossible for Zeke to stop laughing. Fuck,
his stomach hurt. When Eric's mouth started twitching, Zeke grabbed on and
rubbed his streaming eyes in his friend's t-shirt.
"Oh,
my fucking God.
You still have your shirt on."

"Yeah, well, no one ever said we were a
couple of rocket scientists," Eric muttered, ineffectually shoving at
Zeke, trying to get him to stop mopping up his tears in his precious concert shirt.
No such luck, buster
, Zeke thought,
grabbing on even harder. Eric gave up and let him molest the fabric.

"You know I love you, right?" Zeke
finally managed. Eric's face took on a devilish edge.
"Oh
no!
Don't you dare say
it.
Just keep your stupid
mouth shut!" Zeke attempted to glare and failed miserably. He shook Eric,
hard, but it didn't do a damn thing.

Eric opened his mouth.
"Ditto."

Chapter Three

The third time Carrie ran into Zeke and Eric,
she was sitting in the waiting room of a hospital in
Teaneck
,
NJ
with her nieces. Her sister Olivia was in the emergency room with her nephew
Scott. They'd been at the playground when the boy fell from a swing onto the
winter-hard ground and hurt his arm. He also had a nasty scrape on his scalp that
bled all over everyone: Carrie, her sister Olivia, and, of course, the girls.
Carrie sat by the windows with them, ineffectually trying to wipe the worst of it
off Caro with a rapidly shredding wet wipe.

"Carrie?"

She jumped, almost dropping the cloth as she
looked up to see Zeke walking Eric into the emergency room entrance not five
feet from her.
What the hell
? A flicker
of worry wormed its way up her spine. Eric looked dazed and pale. Zeke held up
Eric's right forearm. There was a tightly wrapped towel around it.

"Zeke!
What happened?" Carrie asked. She was already stressed out
trying to cope with two hysterical girls.
She wasn't expecting to see the men she so fondly remembered show up in
the hospital.

"Eric sliced his arm on the table
saw," Zeke explained, face grim.

"Because I'm a total moron," Eric
mumbled, swaying.

Zeke grabbed for his friend, holding him
upright. "I think he'll be okay. He only needs about a thousand
stitches."

Carrie made an abortive movement towards them
but stopped because Gina was hanging onto her coat. Caro cried quietly into
Carrie's hair and she knew she had streaks of blood on her hands.
I must look absolutely horrible
. This
wasn't how Carrie wanted Zeke and Eric to see her again.

Zeke waved her off. "I've got him. He's just
in shock. Some steak for dinner and a good night's rest will fix him."

He maneuvered Eric to the empty chair next to
Carrie, carefully lowering him down until he was stable. Carrie shifted over so
Eric could let his head rest on her shoulder.
This is turning into a
helluva
day
,
she
thought. She had two little kids and a big, gorgeous male leaning on her. Since
when had she become a responsible adult? She smiled wryly then caught Zeke
looking at her with a fond expression.

"Can I leave him there with you for a sec?
I've got to get him checked in." Zeke waved at the line near the desk.

"Of course."
Carrie patted Eric's head and he sighed, slumping down further. He
smelled nice. Carrie let herself sigh too, quietly. Zeke was lucky he'd found a
free chair for Eric. The place was packed today for some reason.

"Thanks. Hopefully it won't take too long
before they get him back there."

Carrie nodded, wishing she'd had time to call
them the past few months, see if they could at least go out to dinner with her,
but she'd been frantic with work and helping her sister. Robert, Olivia's
husband, was away on business in
Singapore
. Carrie couldn't let her
sister tackle three kids alone and since she lived next door, it was easy for
her to pitch in whenever Olivia needed a hand. Still, she felt bad she hadn't
called.

She watched Zeke walk to the desk, his
extremely fine ass moving in his jeans in a way that made her want to just
grab. And squeeze. She blushed.
You're in
the ER
, she told herself firmly.
Get
a grip.