learned how to fight dirty from his three older sisters. Didn’t look like Sandra had taught Davy that, though.
Davy laughed up at him, the sound musical and sweet. Deep, adorable divots appeared on either side of Davy’s mouth. How had he known Davy for this long and never seen the dimples?
His cock swelled and his eyebrows rose. With as much dignity as he could muster, he quickly got up and sauntered as leisurely as he could to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror before dropping his gaze down to his pants. What the fuck was that? Sure, he’d gotten hard from competitive sports before. It happened, small surges of adrenaline. But he couldn’t quite believe his dick chose now to reawaken from its stupor while he held another man down. Then again, maybe if he was starting to feel again, anything could have set him off. Nothing to worry about. Like puberty all over again.
After flushing the toilet and washing his hands, he returned to the living room. Davy had settled back on the couch, after switching the channel over to one of the west coast games and bringing them fresh beers.
Nothing had changed. He sighed in relief and dropped down on the couch for mere minutes when his phone rang. Work, dammit. “Gotta go, Davy.”
Davy nodded and cuddled back into the couch, knowing by now
Kurt always made sure the door locked behind him.
“Be safe.”
Kurt wondered, and not for the first time, if Davy said that to Ben every time he got called into work.
G
OD , the overtime was killing him. He was fucking exhausted. The extended hours had been both good and bad. Good because he’d only had opportunity to visit Davy three times in the month since their bet, and each time he’d been called in to work abruptly and was therefore able to put off thinking about any potential awkwardness. But on the other hand, he missed hanging out with his friend. Simon was becoming a good friend, too, but Kurt couldn’t figure out why that wasn’t good enough.
His cell rang, an unfamiliar number on the screen. If he wasn’t so fucking bored, he would have let it go to voicemail.
“O’Donnell,” he barked.
“Is this Kurt?”
He didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes.”
“Oh, hi. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Jon, Davy’s
friend.”
A flash of memory showed a good-looking blond man in an expensive suit.
“Jon, yes, I remember.”
“Good, good. We were trying to get Davy out for his birthday on Saturday, but he says he’s not ready for a night on the town, so we thought we’d hang out at his place. I know he’s friends with you… were you interested in joining us?”
“Davy’s birthday is on Saturday?” Why didn’t he know this? “No, it’s actually the following Tuesday.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, sure, I’ll be there if I can.” As long as none of their cases exploded. “What time? Should I bring anything?” “Stop by around eight. If I know Davy, he’ll have food taken care of, but if there’s any beer or anything you’d like to drink, bring that.” “Sure, thanks, Jon. I appreciate the invite.”
Kurt disconnected the call, wishing it was Saturday already. Saturday was supposed to be his first day off in fifteen days, and he’d be fucking bitter if something screwed it up now. Of course, he’d have to find a present for Davy. What the fuck was he going to get? Had to have some colors in it. Davy looked so alive wrapped up in his quilt, and Kurt had never been able to shake the memory of the patchwork colors hidden in Davy’s closet.
“Hey, man, let’s roll,” Simon said, making him jump. “Lost in thought, were ya?”
“Looking forward to Saturday, is all.”
“Don’t I know it. Got plans?”
“I do now.”
“Date?” Simon asked. If it had been anyone else, the word would have had a mocking edge but Simon was merely concerned.
Kurt smiled. “No. Just a small birthday party for a friend.”
O
N
F
RIDAY , he walked with Simon to lunch, but he couldn’t focus
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham