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

  "I noticed you scrambled out of bed pretty fast this morning."

  Dave laughed. “Damn right. I didn't want to be late two mornings in a row, and you were already humping my thigh. You're insatiable."

  "Lucky you.” Archie hummed happily and drummed his fingers on the dash of the truck. “It looks like my bid for that old inn up by Waterloo is going to win. That's three months work, babe. Plus, I'll be taking you on, teaching you finishing work. The exciting stuff, like hanging doors and putting up trim."

  "Oh joy, oh bliss!” Dave snickered and reached for Archie's hand. “That's awesome. Good for us, yeah? Steady work is something to be happy about, and restorations are a place to make your name."

  "Hard work, though,” Archie said, playing with Dave's fingers. “You never know what the hell you're going to find. New construction is a lot less of a headache."

  "But not as fun."

  "Right, that. Oh, and I made plans for myself while you're out dating Des, too."

  Dave's eyebrows went up. “You have been busy this morning."

  "I think I had too much coffee.” Archie looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shook his head. “Anyway. I'll know about the contract by quitting time today, and we can celebrate later."

  Nodding, Dave navigated the noon rush hour and was thankful Archie's place was as close as it was to Des’ home; if they'd tried to get to Dave's apartment they would've had to turn right around and head back when they got there, leaving no time for fun. “So where are you going on the weekend? And I don't even know if the date is for Friday or Saturday. He just said ‘this weekend’ when he asked me."

  "That's the beauty of it—I found a party that's going to run all weekend, so I can just take off when you do. Are you going to be spending the night with him?"

  Dave blinked. “I hadn't planned on it.” He shifted a little uncomfortably and glanced over at Archie. “I'm not too sure how I feel about leaving him and going right to you, either, to be honest."

  Archie gave him a startled look and then laughed. “Babe, if I'm at this party I don't think I'll be hunting for your ass, either. Just let me know which night, when you know, and we can find each other the next day."

  "Yeah?” Dave bit at his lip. “It's more that I think I'd feel weird, going out with him and then spending the night with you."

  "Okay.” Archie shrugged. “I can see that. You'll want to kind of wallow in it, I get it. That's cool. Either way, it's a non-issue, babe. You head to your place, I'll make my way back to mine, and we can talk about it all when you're ready. For right now, though, I've got plans for your lunch hour."

  Dave grinned as he pulled into the parking spot he was almost always thinking of as his own. “Do your plans allow for actual food?"

  "There's some pasta in the fridge. I'll heat it up when we're sticky.” Archie was out of the truck as soon as Dave was parked, heading to the patio doors of his first floor apartment.

  Laughing and completely bemused, Dave followed along. “I thought your sex drive was supposed to slow down as you got older."

  "Are you calling me old? I'm thirty-four. Don't be an ass.” Archie unlocked the door and let them in, pausing only to slap Dave on the butt. “You're no kid anymore, Davey-boy."

  "I hate it when you call me that.” Dave grinned and kicked off his boots, barely loosening the laces. “Couch or bed?"

  "Bed.” His own boots off, Archie was already walking down the hall, his T-shirt fluttering to the floor behind him.

  Dave, always willing to follow a trail of Archie's clothes, went with him and added his own laundry to the line. Item for item, they left two T-shirts, two belts, two pairs of worn jeans, and four socks.

  Underwear hadn't been easy to find in the morning, so they'd both gone without. It sure made it easier to pounce on the bed and get right to it. Not that stripping off a pair of boxer briefs was ever a hardship, of course, but Dave did like to see all the evidence of how much Archie was wanting, right out there and standing up proud.

  "How do you wanna do this?” Dave curled his hand around Archie's cock and tugged slowly, his mouth finding one of Archie's nipples at the same time.

  "God, I don't care.” Archie's hips twitched and he pushed through Dave's hand. “Bite."

  Dave bit, just a little. He knew Archie didn't mean for him to draw blood or anything. He hoped. The scrape of his teeth made Archie gasp and move his hips faster, so that was good. Dave did it again and held his hand still, squeezing rhythmically as Archie fucked his fist.

  "Jesus.” Archie was panting already and his cock had started to leak. “No. Not like this, babe."

  Dave let go, laughing. “Not interactive enough?” he guessed as Archie rolled them over. Flat on his back, Dave looked up into Archie's face. “Come on, give me a hint."

  Archie reached for the lube, leaning way over Dave to get to it. “I have an idea."

  Laughing, Dave rubbed up, his feet sliding on the bed until they found traction. “I kind of assumed so, given the way your dick is as hard as a pry bar."

  Archie sat up, resting back on Dave's thighs. “Shush. Just enjoy, babe.” He squirted lube right onto Dave's cock, not being terribly neat about it.

  "I seem to remember this part from last night.” Dave put his hands on Archie's hips and smirked. “But there was a rubber on me before the lube happened."

  "Uh-huh. You did me hard, babe. No lie.” Archie dumped even more lube on them, cold and slick. “Which is why you're not getting all up in me again, not today."

  Dave smirked harder. “Right. So what's your plan, then, other than making a big mess? We're going to need a shower after this, and we don't really have time."

  Archie leaned forward and kissed him, his weight balanced on his hands. “Then we better hurry. It's a race, see? Bet you a steak dinner you get off before I do."

  "That's not a race.” Dave dug his fingers into Archie's hips and guided him into a long gliding thrust. “Oh, man. It's a kind of anti-race.” The lube was warming up.

  "Whatever.” Archie started rocking, squishing lube all over the place as he lined his cock up with Dave's. “Just move, babe."

  Dave moved. The lube was warm and sticky, which gave a bit of friction to the slip and slide, and Archie was panting in his ear. It felt weird, everything all smooth and then catching a bit, and they could hump pretty fast because the lube was letting them glide. “God.” He realized he was holding his breath and let it out. “Arch."

  "Uh-huh.” Archie started mouthing Dave's shoulder. “We should do this with oil sometime. No friction. Shave our nuts first."

  "What?” Dave almost stopped moving, probably would have if the whole thing hadn't felt so damn good. His balls were already lifting, and his skin was tingling where Archie's stubble was rubbing him raw.

  "God, you're so vanilla.” Archie laughed and ground down against him, mashing their balls together.

  "I am not!” He so was. He didn't care, not one bit. “God, Arch. Faster. Come on, make me shoot."

  Archie moved faster, harder, slipping and sliding over Dave's balls and cock, rubbing hard. “Dave. God damn. Can feel you."

  "Feel me what?” Dave's eyes closed and he thrust up against Archie, lifting him right off the bed. God, he was so close he could almost taste it. His cock was like ironwood and starting to throb.

  "I can feel you leaking. Can smell you.” Archie put his mouth next to Dave's ear and whispered, “I can feel how bad you want to come. Do it, babe. Shoot all over me."

  Dave shook and tried not to lose it, tried with everything he had to keep himself from coming like he was a kid who got off on just anything, but it was too late. He yelled Archie's name as he blew, feeling like the top of his head was going to come off even as he was gushing everything out of his cock.

  Archie, thankfully, was right there with him. Things got very sticky, very fast.

  "I love having lunch with you,” Archie mumbled into Dave's neck. “God. I don't think I can move."

  "Going to
have to.” Truth be told, Dave wasn't sure he was up to moving, either. “How much time do we have?"

  "Five minutes. Ten, if we skip a shower and just wipe off with a facecloth and soap."

  "Napping is out, huh?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  Dave smiled and turned his head to kiss Archie's cheek. “Good day, sunshine."

  "Yeah. It is."

  * * * *

  The day kept getting better, too, as did the whole week. The bookshelves went together without much hassle, Wyatt remained fun and easy to talk to, and Des turned up fairly frequently to talk, flirt and watch Dave work. He seemed to be fascinated by the way Dave handled the wood and the care he put into making sure that the shelves were just perfect.

  Dave assumed that anyone who was as much of a control freak as Desmond Chase was would appreciate the perfectionism. Every single shelf would be level and flush, every screw would be straight, and every bit of excess glue would be wiped away. The planed edges would never scrape a hand, splinters were simply not allowed to happen, and the maple shelves would hold Des’ collections of books for years and years to come.

  Even Archie was impressed, and he told Dave that he should enjoy the chance to be such a type A personality while he could; the job at the inn wouldn't allow as much time to be perfect, though he fully expected Dave to do his best work.

  Des and Dave decided that Saturday would be a better evening than Friday for their dinner date, given the work week and the need to actually shower and dress to be seen in public. Archie and Wyatt both agreed, saying that their evenings would be full, so Des made reservations for seven.

  Saturday morning, Dave and Archie did some work at the wood shop, getting a bit of the paper work done, and Dave updated Archie on the shelving situation at Des'. “It's almost done,” he said as he stacked up some two by four boards against the back wall. “I could have done the last of it this morning, but Des said that he needed Saturday morning with Wyatt. Everything is upstairs, though, and the backyard is cleaned up."

  Archie nodded and moved one of the files he was working on and picked up another. “So, by Monday noon?"

  "Should do.” Dave started stacking some scrap wood. “Yeah, be done by noon. Are you going to bring the bill around in person? Given the situation and all."

  Archie laughed. “Given the situation? God, you've been spending too much time with him already, talking like that."

  "That was Wyatt.” Dave grinned. “I like him. Wyatt, I mean. Des, too, of course, but Wyatt's sweet."

  "Sweet?"

  "Yeah. A nice guy. Smart as hell, nice to me, doesn't seem at all shy about being who he is. I like that he's so freaking secure, both about himself and his relationship with Des. I think you've got to be a pretty strong man to be so cool about your lover dating someone else."

  "Like me?"

  "Like you.” Dave nodded and grabbed the broom to sweep up around the band saw in the corner. “Yes, exactly like you. All of us, I suppose. But you and Wyatt for sure, in this case."

  Archie laughed and puffed out his chest. “I'm Superman. I can prove it, if you've got an hour before you go and start getting ready for your date."

  Dave looked at the broom and then back at Archie. “Man of steel, huh?"

  "You know it, babe."

  "I do. Let me finish cleaning up and you're on."

  Archie looked pleased, his eye crinkling up. “Fantastic."

  It was, in fact, very fantastic. The afternoon passed in Dave's favorite positions and then a nap, after which Dave took himself back to his own apartment to shower and dress for his date. He'd never eaten at the restaurant Des had picked, but there was absolutely no bad with Italian.

  Dave left his truck at home and flagged down a cab, thinking that if there was wine with dinner he'd be just as happy to take a cab home again and not have to worry about his tools getting stolen if he had to leave his truck downtown.

  At the restaurant Dave paid the cab driver and went in, pleased to find that he'd arrived almost exactly at seven, and was actually a couple of minutes early. Dave really hated to be late, and he had a vague idea that Des would be disappointed in Dave if he was made to wait.

  He looked around the restaurant and started to smile. Dave had been expecting a fancy place with linen table clothes and a lot of high backed chairs, maybe a muted ambience and a lot of clinking silverware. What he found was a wide open room full of loud, laughing voices and tables covered in brown paper. He could hear voices yelling in the kitchen, calling out in both English and Italian and even more laughter. He knew that if nothing else happened that night, he was going to eat well.

  Des waved at him from a table near the wall, and stood up as Dave started making his way over, brushing off the friendly greeter who immediately called for someone named Marco.

  "I feel a bit overdressed,” Dave said with a laugh as he reached Des.

  "Nonsense, I'm wearing a tie.” Des kissed him on the cheek and Dave did the same, figuring that no one was going to give a sweet damn. He certainly didn't.

  "You always wear a tie."

  "True. Wine?"

  Dave sat down and smiled. “I'd love some, thank you. This looks like a great place—do you eat here a lot?"

  Des shook his head and laughed as he poured from the bottle of wine that had been at the edge of their table. “Hardly. I don't have enough time to work it all off. It is, however, a wonderful place to eat. All of the pasta is hand rolled, and I'm reasonably sure that the cheeses are imported from their own family in Italy. The herbs are grown especially for them."

  "Wonderful. My mouth is already watering.” It was true; the smell of tomatoes and garlic and oregano was going right to Dave's taste buds. “I bet they have killer Alfredo sauce, too."

  "Like you won't believe. You should try the Fettuccini Dianne; it's Alfredo and mushrooms.” Des was smiling at him and leaning slightly forward, his arms folded on the table. “I knew you'd like it here. I debated, you know. This is what Wyatt calls ‘the happy Italian’ place. I also considered what he calls ‘the classy French place', but I thought this might be more fun."

  "Did Wyatt have an opinion?” Dave asked with a grin. He found he'd begun to lean over the table as well, getting closer to Des. It wasn't hard, given how narrow the table was and how long in the torso Dave was built.

  "I'm sure he did, but I didn't ask.” Des laughed softly, almost meeting Dave over the table. “Are you curious about that?"

  "About the relationship? Only in the sense that I'm curious about both of you. I have no desire at all to try even the mildest of games. Archie doesn't ask, and when I offered to try anyway, he said I'd be bored."

  "Archer's games aren't the same as ours, but from what I know of you, I'm inclined to agree with him. I do appreciate, by the way, that you don't seem to be put off by what Wyatt and I do. What we are. Thank you for that."

  Dave shrugged and finally drank from his wine glass. “On the one hand, I don't know enough to have an opinion, really. On the other, it's none of my business. It does make me wonder why you're here, though."

  "What do you mean?” Des looked a little startled, his eyes widening. God, his eyes were green. “Do you think I can't have a relationship that doesn't involve power play?"

  "I don't know. Can you?” Dave had decided to be completely honesty with Des right about the time Des had apologized to him on the first day they'd met. There was no room at all for assumptions, not when you had two couples mixing and mingling, when three of the four men were given to kink and the fourth wasn't at all. “I hope you can. But I do wonder what the draw is. I'm built like Wyatt—do you want to know what it would be like if he wasn't submissive?"

  Des sat back and frowned slightly. “If you actually believed that was true, I doubt that you'd be sitting here now. You don't strike me as the type to play mind games like that, any more than you play at bondage or power exchange. Which makes me wonder why you'd even ask."

  "I don't believe it's true, no,” Dave said
slowly. “But the thought did enter my mind, and the question remains. What's the draw?"

  "I can tell you that.” Des leaned forward once more, but the waiter chose that moment to arrive, carrying a basket of breadsticks and menus.

  "I apologize for the delay. My name is Marco, and I will be your waiter this evening.” Marco smiled at them both, though he seemed a little harried. He rattled off the specials, left them with the hot breadsticks and garlic butter, and tore off again to get a pitcher of water.

  Dave and Des looked at each other and started to laugh. “I hope he lets us talk when he comes back,” Dave said, picking up his menu.

  "I can only assume he will.” Des looked at his own menu and added, “You impress me. That's why I'm here."

  Dave smiled and read down the list of pasta noodles available before he said anything more. He'd started looking at the sauces before he spoke. “You impress me, as well. That's why I said yes. I'm curious about what impresses you."

  "I'm sure you are, that's human nature. I could give you a laundry list, if you'd like. At the top would be your attention to detail and the way you handle my books. I like your self-confidence and the way you delight in your work. And I like the way you look when Archer's head is in your lap."

  Dave grinned broadly and reached for his wine glass again. “You saw that."

  "Indeed.” Desmond grinned back. “It was a wonderful way to start a lunch break. Wyatt enjoyed hearing about it."

  "He didn't see?"

  "He was busy at the time.” Des winked and glanced down significantly.

  Dave laughed. “Well done."

  "It was, actually."

  Feeling a little smug and slightly aroused, Dave went back to his menu. He sipped at the wine—a very full bodied red—and made his meal choices, glancing frequently at Des. It was interesting, seeing Des out of his shop and home. He looked almost exactly the same, but there was something a little ramped up, a little more wolfish about him. He was still refined and impeccable in both manners and dress, but his smile was faster and sharper, his eyes more intense. It was like he'd decided that there was no longer any reason to mute his attraction, if it had been muted before. There were no customers around, no neighbors to look over the back fence.