Used, Rare and Limited Editions 2: Mix and Mingle Read online

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  Torquere Press

  www.torquerepress.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Chris Owen

  First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2008

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

  * * *

  Dave was a carpenter on a mission. His boss had said, “Go forth, Mr. Allen, and build bookshelves for an old friend of mine,” and Dave had gone forth to do his duty and to produce fine shelving.

  Well, more or less. It hadn't happened exactly like that. It had been more like: Archie rolled over in bed, looked at Dave with one bleary eye, and said, “Go over to that used bookstore on Stillwater and talk to the owner. He's a friend of mine from way back, and he needs some shelving.” Dave had nodded, because Archie signed his paychecks, and then there had been blowjobs, after which Dave had fallen back to sleep and been late to the bookstore.

  A day or so later, there he was, on a mission. The mission, however, had very little to do with the building of shelves, and rather a lot to do with moving books and trying to find a way to talk to the guy helping him.

  The shelves that Archie had mentioned were not, in fact, for Desmond Chase's store, but for his own personal collection of oversized and rare books. Des lived above his store—or rather, his store was in most of the lower floor of his home—so the confusion had been understandable, though immediately straightened out.

  The shelves were no longer an issue; the entire rest of the situation remained a huge, pink elephant in the room. Given that both Dave and the man helping him—Wyatt Cole, Des Chase's partner—were large and tall former football players, that elephant was really squishing them in there.

  "Are you going to the university this afternoon?” Dave asked, as he and Wyatt rolled a cart across the hallway. The cart was piled with books, all neatly lined up and in alphabetical order, ready to be transferred to a waiting table. It was very important to Desmond that his books remain in order, and therefore it was important to Wyatt. It would make them that much easier to re-shelve in a week or so.

  "Yes.” Wyatt quickly lifted several books at once and started arranging them in neat piles on the table. “My office hours start at one, and I have two classes today: both intro level, but that means they're full. Why?"

  "Oh, no reason.” Dave helped with the books as fast as he could without messing up the piles. They were on the clock, though it would only be Wyatt who paid a price if the books weren't moved within the sixty minutes Des had allowed him. “I was just wondering."

  Wyatt grinned at him. “You were not. You were trying to come up with a way to start a conversation with me and that's what came out."

  "Maybe,” Dave mumbled. He looked at the books as he moved them, and not at Wyatt. “So. Here's the thing."

  Wyatt said nothing, clearly waiting for Dave to keep talking. The trouble was, Dave hadn't ever been in precisely such an awkward social position before, and he wasn't sure what to say. Maybe he shouldn't say anything at all.

  "The thing?” Wyatt finally prompted as he took the last of the books off the cart.

  Dave took a breath. “You told me yesterday that you and Des have an open relationship, at least in certain cases."

  "True.” Wyatt moved the cart and Dave followed him back across the hall to the room they were emptying of books. “You and Archie are open as well, you said."

  "We are.” In the loosest sense, that was. Dave was starting to think that maybe they weren't so much “open” as “allowing space to meet certain needs.” He couldn't remember the last time he'd been with someone not Archie, other than a vague idea it had to have been at least five or six months ago. He picked up an armful of books and started loading the cart again. “I guess I just want to make sure you and I are on the same page. About this weekend, I mean. About me and Des. Going to dinner. This weekend."

  Wyatt laughed and loaded the cart faster than Dave. “I was there when he called to ask you out. He reached you at Archie's apartment, on Archie's phone. All four of us are on the same page, Dave. It's okay with me."

  Dave felt himself blush. “Well, it's just that this isn't about dinner, right? I mean, you and Des are happy and in love. Me and Archie are whatever the hell we are. Everyone is happy, and there's no real reason for Des to ask me on an actual date if it's just about talking and having nice food. Archie says he's curious about me, sees me as a challenge."

  "That much is true.” Wyatt nodded and stopped loading books for a moment. “Of course, he also wants to have sex with you."

  "That's the part I want to be really clear that you're okay with.” Dave and Archie had talked about it half the night and he knew exactly where Archie stood with that idea. In fact, Archie had been enthusiastic enough about it that they'd managed a third round of orgasms before falling asleep.

  "If it helps,” Wyatt said as he went back to putting stacks of books on the cart, “I've made plans to be out all evening.” He smiled at Dave and winked. “And I have orders to make sure there's clean sheets on the bed."

  "Good God.” Dave flushed harder. He wasn't even going to think about whether Wyatt would have to change the sheets the morning after or not. That was just too weird for him.

  Wyatt laughed softly. “So, yes. I'm okay with it. But thank you for asking. You didn't have to, and I appreciate the courtesy."

  "Well, I like you.” Dave shrugged and tried to look like he was comfortable talking about fucking another man's lover. “I wanted to be really sure that you were cool with it."

  "I'm really cool with it.” Wyatt pointed to the books. “Come on. I'll be less cool if I don't get all these books moved before my time is up."

  Dave nodded and started moving faster. “If they don't get moved, how will he punish you?” he asked tentatively.

  "I'm pretty sure you don't want to know the details.” Wyatt flashed him a grin again. “It will involve a lot of kneeling. My master is very firm when I don't fulfill reasonable expectations."

  "Moving an entire room of books in an hour is reasonable?"

  Wyatt laughed and started pushing the cart. “Yes. It is."

  That seemed to be that, Dave figured. If nothing else, working with a couple like Des and Wyatt was spoiling him for every other client he'd have to deal with in the future. They communicated exceptionally well and everything—everything—was going to happen on time. Or else.

  The hour for moving the books went by and Dave was completely unsurprised when Des appeared at the door right as the time ran out. He and Wyatt had been finished for all of about twenty seconds, so they'd used their extra time to start putting tape up on the walls.

  "Well done,” Des said quietly. He stood in the door, his hand by his sides, and looked at Wyatt. “I knew an hour would be sufficient."

  "You always know best, sir.” Wyatt was smiling, but his eyes were down, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

  Dave realized he'd stopped taping so he could watch, and hastily got back to work.

  "I'm glad you think so.” Dave could hear the smile in Des’ voice. “Off you go. I know you have student papers to read and grade. I'll be downstairs in the store if you need me, after I speak with Dave."

  "Thank you, sir. Bye, Dave."

  Dave turned around to say good bye to Wyatt, and watched as Des kissed his submissive rather thoroughly. “Nice.
” He grinned and then laughed as Wyatt grinned back before he left the room.

  Des smiled as well and adjusted his tie. Where Dave was dressed in jeans, work boots and a plain T-shirt for work, Desmond seemed to wear a suit and tie as a matter of course. Dave couldn't help but think that Des looked pretty hot, all fancy and business-like, even if it was his everyday wear, maybe even because of that.

  "Very nice,” Des agreed. “So, tape on the walls. Why?” He looked mildly curious as he walked toward Dave. “I thought you were doing it all by the plans you drew up yesterday."

  "I am.” Dave pointed to the tape. “This is just a quick guide to mark the studs. The wood should be delivered right about now; do you want to see it?"

  "Of course.” Des was still moving closer, still smiling, and he sounded delighted about the chance to see long boards of wood. “Is everything being delivered at once?"

  "Uh-huh. Wood, hardware ... I've already got the saw and my tools unloaded and set up. I'll try to keep the mess down, but you're going to be left with some sawdust on your lawn. Sorry.” Dave leaned against the wall as Des took the last two steps to reach him and then took one more. “Good morning."

  "Good morning.” Des smiled and kissed him softly.

  As a first kiss it was very nice, Dave thought. Soft and gentle, but a bit briefer than Dave would have liked. Still, it made him smile and he thought that maybe that was the point. “I could get used to starting a work day with a kiss."

  "We'll just see if we can make that happen, then.” Des stepped back and gestured to the door, something Dave was already beginning to get used to and identify as one of the things that Des simply did; a personality quirk. “Shall we go and look at wood?"

  Dave nodded and went with Des, trying not to stomp. Work boots on hardwood sounded very, very loud, especially when he was walking with someone wearing a pair of very nice Oxfords. The contrast was one of many between the two of them, and the fact that Dave outweighed Des by fifty pounds or more probably had something to do with it, too.

  Outside, they found that the delivery wasn't yet there, so Dave laid out a few tarps to keep the mess down and the wood dry, then opened up the large gate in the fence so that when the truck did arrive they wouldn't have any problems offloading.

  "You use hand tools?"

  Dave glanced over to Des, who was standing next to Dave's open tool box and holding a plane in his hands. “Sometimes,” Dave said with a nod. “Sometimes hand tools are the right way to go—sometimes they take far more time than a job is worth.” He pointed to the table saw. “I won't be cutting maple by hand, not when it's an inch and a half thick and the measurements matter."

  "I don't blame you.” Des bent to put the plane down and then stopped. “This is an antique."

  "Yeah. It was my uncle's. He told me it was my grandfather's, but my mom said that it wasn't.” Dave shrugged. “It's a good tool, so I use it."

  Des put the plane down and sat down on the steps. “Did your uncle teach you about woodworking and carpentry?"

  "A little, I suppose.” Dave thought about it as he went to sit next to Des. “I was always hammering at stuff when I was a kid, and I took shop classes in middle school. It wasn't until after I had to quit college that I picked up carpentry for real. By then, I had my uncle's tools—he had a stroke, couldn't use them anymore—and it looked like an okay way to earn money. Turned out I was good at measuring and cutting.” Dave shrugged. He still thought any monkey could do his job if they were careful. Archie insisted he had a touch, though he never really explained to Dave what he meant.

  Des nodded thoughtfully. “My own uncle—” He stopped as a large truck pulled up. “Oh. Well, perhaps later.” He smiled and stood up. “I have to open the store, but I'll be back in a few minutes to see the wood."

  Dave nodded, already moving to help unload the maple. “See you in a bit, Des."

  For the next while, Dave got his wood and everything else organized, double checking that each length of maple was what he'd ordered and that each board was free of deep flaws. Des did come back and check things over, but he said that he trusted Dave's judgment about whether the wood was top quality or not. Appreciating the trust and compliment implied by someone like Des, possessor of such a controlled and controlling personality, to voluntarily pass control of the project over to Dave, Dave triple checked to be sure before he signed off on the bill.

  Then he got to work.

  Dave adored his job. He loved working alone when he could, and he loved being able to work with top materials. He was actually humming as he started measuring each piece before he cut, matching new lengths to his plans and labeling each one so he wouldn't have any trouble when it came time to assemble the shelves up in the room.

  Before too long, he had enough cut and pre-drilled to put together one of the taller units and he was running out of room on the tarp. If he was going to be able to cut more shelves he'd need to get things moved upstairs, if not actually assembled, so he set about planing down the edges.

  The plane felt warm in his hands as he took long curls of wood off the corners and what would be the front edge of each shelf. Maple smelled nice, though not as strong as cedar or pine, and it curled into long ribbons that dropped delicately to the ground as he worked.

  "Tell me,” Des said quietly as he came up behind Dave. “Why do you use the plane and not a sanding block, or even a router?"

  Dave smiled and took another thin curl of wood off the current board. “A router would be overkill. I admit I have a strong desire to build you some very fancy shelves and cases, but I'm thinking more about dovetails and inlays, not scrolled edges. Come here, look.” He all but tugged Des closer and took Des’ fingers in his own. “See how smooth that is? Sanding would do that, but it would take time and a lot of effort. A router would make it slick, but I wouldn't be able to feel it, I wouldn't be able to go slowly and carefully."

  Des's hand slid along the board and he shifted until he was in front of Dave, with Dave's arms bracketing him. “Show me how."

  Smiling, Dave put the plane in Des’ hand. “Okay, see the grain. We're going to move with it, slow and steady.” He put his hands over Des’ and together they moved, shaving the wood down. “It's just a layer at a time. It's controlled; you should like that. It's powerful and connected, working with the wood and not against it. A router is powerful, but a step away from the product.” He kept their hands moving as he talked, their bodies rocking slightly as they bent to reach the end of the board.

  "You're going to be a part of my shelves.” Des didn't sound displeased by the idea. “I like the way you're meticulous. Are you like this with all things, or just wood?"

  Dave smirked. He knew he did, but he wasn't sure how to stop it, so he just let it happen and talked as if he wasn't. “You're meticulous about your books,” he said. “They deserve good shelves."

  "So you've said before.” Des let Dave move them through another drift of the plane down the wood. “I think you should spend as much time touching books as you do wood. You clearly love them, and given your taste in literature—"

  "My taste isn't exactly what you might think it is,” Dave interrupted. “You caught me reading Chaucer, but I prefer Shakespeare if we're going to talk about the old classics. To be perfectly honest, though, you'll most often find me reading Harry Potter or something by Robert Ludlum. I'm just an average guy, Des."

  Desmond turned around in his arms. “Hardly that.” He looked up at Dave, his green eyes serious. “Hardly average."

  Dave looked back, looking down slightly because they were so close. “It's not often I'm completely tongue tied."

  Des smiled and ducked out of his arms, backing away. “I look forward to talking to you later."

  Dave watched him go, still trying to come up with something to say.

  * * * *

  "Hey, babe."

  "Archie, thank God. Gimme a hand."

  Archie came into the room, laughing as he held the side of the bookcase. “G
ot it."

  "I forgot the damn thing would weigh a ton when it was put together.” Dave rolled his eyes as they moved the bookcase into place against the wall. “Are you here to take me to lunch?"

  "Right after you brace this baby.” Archie stepped back and let Dave drive screws into the wall studs. “This is real nice work, Dave."

  "Thanks.” Dave got the bookshelf braced and backed away to admire it. “Heavy, so it's going to last. And I only need to build five more and the freestanding ones for the floor."

  "So you're not going to be done this afternoon?” Archie teased. “God, Des better never move. Or if he does, he better sell the whole joint to another bookseller. These shelves are pretty permanent."

  Dave nodded and put his drill in the charger. “Yep. So, lunch. Same as yesterday?” He moved closer to Archie, looking for a bit of love. Lunch the day before had been mutual blowjobs and a fast run to a burger place.

  "I was thinking maybe lunch at my place.” Archie winked at him and started walking away. “Come on, babe. Make the drive over here worth my while."

  Dave shed his tool belt and left it where it landed, next to the battery charger for his drill. “We'll take my truck."

  "Like I care how we get there?"

  By the time Dave had covered the wood in the yard with another tarp and locked the saw, Archie was almost vibrating, standing close enough that Dave could feel him shake. “What's gotten into you?” Dave asked as he pulled Archie through the gate.

  "I'm in a really, really good mood."

  "No shit.” Dave latched the gate and grabbed Archie's hand. “Come on, I'll drive. You can tell me why you're in such a fantastic mood."

  Archie almost danced to the truck. “Well, I got laid, like, four times yesterday. That was pretty awesome."

  "Which means you should be too damn tired for the lunch break you're expecting."

  Archie gave him a hard look as they climbed in. “Are you? Too tired?"

  "Well, no.” Dave winked at him and started driving. “I wouldn't say that."