Guys On Top

By Darien Cox

Doug Crandall’s perfect suburban life imploded after his boyfriend’s betrayal and a subsequent lawsuit left him personally and financially devastated. A year later, with a new place in the city and a fresh outlook, he’s back on his feet and ready to start over. Eager to lose his cynicism and heal his battered heart, he immerses himself in the local social scene, which includes a pair of charismatic men engaged in an open relationship. As Doug finds himself becoming emotionally and sexually entangled in their lives, he’s forced to reevaluate his views on fidelity, betrayal, love, and the often calamitous price of happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darien Cox
• Release date: Feb 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311574763

Darien Cox

Author Darien Cox lives in New England and enjoys using romantic fiction to explore the intensity, insanity, humor, and chaos that accompanies cupid’s arrow. http://dariencox.com/

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Guys on Top

Darien Cox

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Guys on Top

Copyright © 2014 by Darien Cox

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Cover Art © 2014 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

SMASHWORDS EDITION

First Edition February 2014

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One

Doug shut the car door and stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the old Victorian house. Gray with white trim, it was a two story split, and though clearly renovated and coiffed to modern aesthetics, its solid, looming structure exuded fortitude and longevity. Closely flanked on either side by similar houses, tall hedges insulated the front yard, giving the property an air of seclusion.

There was no sign of the landlord yet, and Doug checked his watch, anxious to see if the inside was as enticing as the exterior. Turning in a slow circle on the sidewalk, he took in the neighborhood. Despite the steady hum of cars on the nearby parkway, the street felt peaceful and suburban—it was hard to believe downtown Boston was just a twenty-minute drive away. He’d passed the large, tree-lined pond on the way in, and seen the joggers and dog walkers. Already he imagined taking his morning run down there, sunrise glimmering on the water as his feet pounded the path.

He looked back up at the house. Small, festive lanterns were strung along the balcony of the occupied top floor. The porch below was empty and ungarnished, the tall windows dark and lifeless. If Doug was lucky, he’d be signing a lease today for the first floor apartment, and he’d be the one to bring life and light back into those windows.

I want this.

He hadn’t had a real home since buying—and then subsequently losing— the condo he’d shared with Harry, his ex. Having been transient for far too long, he was ready to dig in somewhere new and start over. He liked the ageless, permanent feel of the apartment house, and it was a hell of a lot nicer than the other places he’d looked at recently. They’d all been either too small, in a bad location, or in the case of the last place he’d seen, smelled like urine.

His head turned at the sound of a car engine and he saw a yellow Volkswagen Beetle pull into the driveway. Doug approached the car. A short, plump, blonde woman of about sixty stepped out, her face half covered by enormous sunglasses. She slung a suitcase-sized pocketbook over one shoulder as she hip-checked the car door shut.

You must be Anna, Doug said, and the woman did a double take, peering up at him.

Her plump face lit with a smile as she removed her sunglasses, revealing bright blue eyes, heavy with mascara, a smear of pink lipstick staining one of her front teeth. Hello! She shook his extended hand. You’re Dr. Crandall’s brother?

Yeah, I’m Doug. Nice to meet you.

Doug, yes, yes, come on inside, I hope you had no trouble finding it.

None at all.

He followed as she toddled up the flagstone path to the front porch, then he waited patiently as she fumbled with a jangling key ring. I was so pleased when your brother told me about you and your situation. This place has been empty for a while now. She pushed open the front door and they stepped into an enclosed entryway that smelled of old wood. Directly ahead, a long set of stairs disappeared upward into darkness. This is the main entry, shared by both apartments, as you can see the mail comes in through the slot here, she said, pointing to a pile of letters and magazines strewn on the floor.

To their left was another door, which Anna quickly unlocked and eased open. But each apartment also has a private entrance in the back. Come on inside.

Doug followed her through the door into the first floor apartment, finding himself in a vast, empty room with hardwood floors and high ceilings. This is the largest room, most people use it as a living room. And you can see the kitchen is over here on the right.

The place smelled clean, like pine wood polish. The shiny wood floor creaked under his feet as he made his way farther into the room, admiring the door sized windows, their multiple panes generating patchwork sunlight patterns across the floor.

Anna flicked on an overhead light as Doug turned and strolled into the kitchen. It was three times the size of the kitchen he’d had in his condo, and far more charming. The appliances were modern, but the trim work was vintage, glass-front cabinets edging the walls. This is beautiful, he said.

Thank you. She smiled up at him, her eyes seeming to scrutinize his face. He resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the lipstick off her tooth. Well look at you, she said. You’re even more handsome than your brother!

Doug chuckled politely. Oh, thank you.

She plunked her hefty purse down on the kitchen counter, along with her keys. You know, it was just dumb luck, finding you. The girls who lived here moved out two months ago, and I’ve been having a hell of a time finding the right person to rent to. Most of the younger people, students and such, can’t afford it. And the older ones are all buying houses of their own. What is it you do again, Doug?

I’m an engineer, he said.

She nodded. Yes, yes, I got your paperwork, it all looks fine. But I’m babbling. Come, let me show you the rest.

He followed her back through the spacious living room and down a short hallway. I’ve been going to Dr. Crandall for years, you know, he’s such a nice man. But I suppose you don’t call him Dr. Crandall. She looked over her shoulder, chuckling.

No, he’s just Wyatt to me. He smiled at Anna as they stepped into another large room with hardwood floors, empty save for an old, cast iron radiator in the corner. Two windows looked out onto the backyard, a two car garage visible at the end of the driveway. Like the front, the rear of the property was edged with high hedges, a tangle of honey suckle running alongside them. A pair of blue hydrangea shrubs bloomed on either side of the back porch.

This is the master bedroom, she said. Both of these apartments have two bedrooms, I’ll show you the other one after this. There’s also another small room at the rear of the house, more of an alcove, really. Some tenants have used that as an office, others for storage. But as you can see there’s plenty of space if you ever want to get a roommate. Two men share the upstairs apartment. But you’re on your own, your brother said?

Yeah, it’s just me.

Well, you’ll certainly have a lot of space. I suppose it’s nice to have a spare bedroom, for company and such.

Yeah, he said. I thought I’d used it as an exercise room.

Yes, that’s an idea. You certainly look like you stay fit! she said, slapping his abdomen, then squeezing his bicep with a giggle.

He laughed. Thanks, I try.

He’d gotten himself into decent shape, but vanity had little to do with his adherence to daily, vigorous workouts. Along with meditation, the exercise was crucial to keeping his mood mellow and his nerves calm, fending off the anger that had nearly consumed him months back.

Come, follow me, Doug.

They moved down another pine scented hallway and into the spare bedroom, about half the size of the master. Bright lavender paint accosted his eyes, and his gaze traveled the stenciled border where the ceiling met the wall. Royal blue and gold moons and suns danced across the wall, contrasting with the lavender. Doug stood beside Anna, hands in his pockets. Yeah, this is perfect for an exercise room, good size.

You can paint over that... she waved a hand toward the wall stencils, moony lesbian stuff.

Doug let out a belly laugh. Okay, will do.

Anna smiled at him. They were nice girls, the previous tenants. Just a bit strange. Clean, though. They left the place immaculate. I prefer to rent to gays, I’m sure your brother mentioned that? They make such good tenants. Clean and quiet.

Doug’s mind flashed back to images of his ex-boyfriend Harry’s dirty socks strewn all over the bedroom floor, his beard whiskers coating the bathroom sink, and the dishes piled on the counter for days on end. He bit his tongue, his desire for the apartment outweighing the niggling urge to correct Anna’s stereotype. His brother had told him that Anna preferred to rent to gays, and while he thought it a bit eccentric, he was willing to take the leg up where he could get it.

Yeah, well, he said, smiling, I’m very clean. And quiet.

And gay?

Doug laughed. Um, yes. As it happens.

Anna studied him, hands on her hips, head tilted to one side, reminding him of a pigeon. Dr. Crandall mentioned you were. You don’t look very gay, though.

He laughed. Oh. Well, uh, I’d show you my membership card, but I didn’t bring it with me today.

Anna scowled.

That’s a joke, he said.

Oh! She cackled, slapping his shoulder. You’re funny. You do remind me of your brother, he’s got a sense of humor, that one. Dr. Crandall’s such a good doctor, I love his bedside manner. Come, I’ll show you the rest.

Anna took him through the rest of the apartment, then out a back door to look at the rear deck and yard. The garage space on the left would be yours. The guys upstairs use the one on the right, as you can see.

A small blue car sat parked in the garage, some vintage sporty thing, though he couldn’t place the make and model. He’d not had to contend with neighbors in a long time. But then it wasn’t like he was actually sharing his home with them. They were upstairs, he would be down. Besides, after occupying the spare room and tip toeing around his brother’s family for the past few months, dealing with a couple of neighbors was nothing.

And there’s plenty of storage in the basement, Anna added.

Great. This is great, he said, and meant it. There was something about the place that spoke to him, told him that this could be home. The perfect place to start over, a small Eden shrouded from prying eyes, yet close enough to the city that he could begin venturing out again. Though he wasn’t feeling particularly friendly as of late, he aimed to make a concerted effort to get back into the social stream. After having his previous life nuked out from under him, it was almost a matter of spite—the only splinter of anger he allowed to reign freely. He’d get himself a life again, damn it, and he’d try to be happy, whether he liked it or not.

But it wasn’t all about spite. Doug was horny. Not the kind of horny that could be solved with masturbation, but deep down, as though his very soul needed an orgasm. And he welcomed the feeling, his mind and body urging him to get back in the game. Harry’s betrayal, the accident, the lawsuit, it had all sucked his passion dry, and for a while there, he couldn’t have gotten it up if his life depended on it. All he’d had was his rage. But now, something else burned in him, bubbling up and demanding release. For the first time in ages, he was hopeful about the future.

He was hardly looking for love, he’d been down that road and it had ended disastrously. But he hungered for something. His need for another body was overpowering, to touch and be touched, the heat of foreign breath on his lips and the scent of masculine sweat on his sheets.

You like it? Anna asked, interrupting his thoughts.

I do, he said. Very much.

It’s a wonderful neighborhood. It was fortunate, as I said, Dr. Crandall and I just started chatting during my exam, and I mentioned I was trying to get one of my apartments rented, Anna said.

His brother ran an obstetrics and gynecology clinic in town, so Doug was graced with an unwelcome mental image of Anna, prone on a table with her feet up in stirrups, discussing real estate while Wyatt gave her a pap smear.

Yeah, fortunate, Doug agreed. I’ve been looking for a place, but no luck so far.

Yes, your brother told me you’ve had a rough time of things. Her smile wilted, blue eyes drooping in sympathy.

A flare of annoyance heated Doug’s cheeks, and he wondered how much his brother had told this stranger about his situation and his past. But he took a deep breath and tampered it down, his practiced anger-coping skills kicking in effectively, if not sluggishly.

Family, he thought. You could bitch and moan about their meddling, but when your shoes finally hit rock bottom, they were the only people you could dare ask to help pull you out. Problem was, they then felt entitled to try and fix your life, and since you’d clearly fucked it up on your own, it was difficult to argue.

Wyatt and his wife, Beth, had taken Doug in when he was at the lowest point in his life, and helped him get back on his feet. And with a toddler to contend with, they hardly needed another dependent in the house, especially a twenty-eight year old. So he was willing to cut his brother slack when it came to his meddling. Especially since it had led to finding this great apartment, he hoped.

Well, I love the place, Doug said, hoping to move on to closing the deal.

Anna turned and smiled up at him. Good, I’m so pleased. Well, as I said, your paperwork is all fine, and there’s no better reference than Dr. Crandall. So the apartment is yours if you want it. When can you move in?

Doug beamed. As soon as possible.

She patted his arm. Then I’ll get you your key.

Great, Doug said, following her back inside.

You are gay, you said, right? she asked as they moved toward the kitchen.

Doug rolled his eyes behind her back. Yes. Really. Quite gay.

Good, good. I do prefer renting to gays. They make good tenants. Nice and quiet.

Doug signed the lease and gave Anna a check. Then, with keys in hand, he exited what would soon be his new home. His brother Wyatt and a friend had already agreed to help him move, and he was looking forward to getting his furniture and stuff out of storage, excited to see it all again, to feel whole.

As he was leaving the foyer through the main front door, he heard a strange, masculine howl from somewhere up above. Pausing, he glanced up the set of wooden steps that led to the second floor apartment. He waited, but heard nothing further.

The sound forgotten, he left the house and trotted down the front porch steps, eager to call his brother and tell him the good news.

Chapter Two

Nice and quiet.

Anna the landlord’s words taunted Doug as he hugged his pillow around his ears, struggling in vain to block out the party sounds coming from above. He sat up and grabbed his phone off the bedside table, checked the time, then slammed it back down. Falling back into the mattress, he glared up at the ceiling.

Five nights. He’d been in the apartment for five nights, and for five nights he’d barely slept. He was thankful he’d taken the week off to move and unpack, but dreaded what next week would bring when he had to return to work. Sleep, like his exercise and meditation, was crucial to maintaining his calm. But since moving into the apartment, he’d not had even close to a full night’s slumber.

It generally started around nine at night, sometimes a bit later: the trampling of feet going up the stairs to the second floor. The knocking as new people arrived. The music. Oh God, the music—usually played at an obscene volume.

The voices.

The laughter.

One laugh in particular, a shrill, male cackle, was becoming so familiarly annoying that Doug swore he’d punch the owner of it should they ever meet.

No. Control your anger. Count to ten. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Early in the evening he could handle it, his iPod ear buds wedged into his ears as he continued to clean and unpack. But he’d never been able to sleep with music playing, he needed silence. The noise was the worst in his bedroom, the ancient radiator acting as a conduit for sound, voices channeled down the pipes as though through a muffled megaphone. And the noises didn’t end once the party guests finally left at an ungodly hour. No, then came the sex.

Moans, groans, bedsprings squeaking. Terms of endearment, along with words not quite so sweet, bayed in guttural abandon at the moment of orgasm.

Sometimes the sex sounds came before the guests left, while the gathering still raged, as though someone had sneaked off for a quickie behind the bedroom’s locked door, their lust-filled grunts camouflaged by the music and drunken voices—camouflaged by everyone but Doug, lying in his bed one floor below.

He suddenly heard the door open at the top of the exit stairs and a muffle of goodnights and salutations, then the familiar trample of feet as they descended down to the foyer. The heavy front door opened and slammed shut as they left. Doug breathed a sigh of relief. He could still get a few hours in before his morning run. Turning onto his side, he pulled the sheet up and hugged his pillow, scowling as he willed unconsciousness to come.

He tried to ignore the voices he still heard, drifting through the radiator into his room. There were fewer of them now, though he couldn’t tell how many.

Oh please, please be too tired for sex, he thought, trying to mentally beam the idea up through the ceiling and into his neighbors’ minds.

He hadn’t even met his upstairs neighbors yet, but was already far too intimate with the bedroom habits of at least one of them, whoever occupied the room above his. Last night he’d been privy to one man asking another to suck his cock, which might have been easier to stomach had Doug not then heard the sounds of the act being performed.

Doug loved sex as much as the next guy, but being subjected to an audio track of someone else’s nightly intimacy was grating, especially in his sleep deprived state.

The voices above gained volume, and when he heard what sounded like the beginnings of an argument, he gave up, and with his pillow and blanket, retreated to the spare room.

His weight bench and punching bag took up most of the space, but he was now thankful he’d put the old sofa against the wall. It was coming in handy. There was no radiator in this room, and it was distanced far enough from the other side of the house to be virtually silent. Curling up on the couch, cocooned in his blanket, he drifted quickly off to sleep.

When he was awakened by the doorbell, sunshine was streaming through the windows. Doug sat up, groaning as he stretched his back, splinters of pain shooting through one arm. He climbed off the sofa and stumbled out of the spare room, bare feet padding the hardwood floor as he approached the door. He started to reach for the knob then stopped, looking down at himself. He wore boxer shorts and nothing else. He turned the knob and stepped hesitantly into the foyer, peering at the closed front door.

Who is it?

Dougy, it’s me, his brother’s familiar voice said.

Doug unlocked the door and opened it. His brother Wyatt held a large cardboard box in