Guys on the Side

By Darien Cox

In the sequel to Guys on Top, we meet up with the Boston boys several months later. Corey has developed a close friendship with Doug, who’s still living in the apartment downstairs. But Doug plans to leave and move in with Stewart soon, and Corey finds himself feeling lost, since his own new relationship is beginning to implode—Zach’s insecurities over Corey’s promiscuous past turning from slightly annoying to downright irrational.

Corey’s stress increases when a conflict with a massage client’s homophobic family grows hostile, but through this debacle he meets Angelo, a local psychiatrist, who despite being straight, feels like a mirror image of himself. But soon this friendship becomes confusing as Angelo’s affection starts to feel not so platonic anymore. And for the first time in Corey’s life, he finds himself faced with a man who intimidates the hell out of him, and that he has absolutely no idea what to do with.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darien Cox
• Release date: Feb 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311787071

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 the Side

Sequel to Guys on Top

Darien Cox

Guys on the Side

Copyright © 2015 by Darien Cox

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Cover Art © 2015 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

First Edition February 2015

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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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

Corey checked his phone again, and finally decided to send a text to Leonard, his client, who was now forty minutes late for his massage appointment.

‘Where are you? Are you canceling? Please let me know.’

When another ten minutes passed with no response from Leonard, Corey grew worried, wondering if the guy was dead. A morbid thought, of course; Leonard wasn’t that old at sixty-one. The man was, however, almost obsessively punctual, never missing an appointment, and had exhibited near panic on the few occasions Corey was forced to reschedule him due to personal conflicts. It was unusual for Leonard to cancel an appointment, but to simply not show up and not call? Unheard of.

Corey really hoped the guy wasn’t dead. Leonard Nardovino was a good person who seemed to be slowly working through his shitty problems and coming out the other side. Corey wanted Leonard to be okay.

Plus the man always left an overly generous tip.

Some clients partook of Corey’s services simply because he gave a great massage. Others, like Leonard, came for the healing aspects of his ministrations. Leonard in particular had grown rather dependent on the bimonthly sessions, during which Corey attempted to purge his crippling guilt, regret, and profound sense of loss for the life he’d once had—even though that life had been a lie.

After several years of doing this work, Corey had stopped trying to analyze exactly what his own gift was or how it worked. He only knew that he could sense sadness, anxiety, anger, and other variations of emotional turmoil by laying his hands on a person in a certain way—and more often than not, he could draw those bad feelings out of them, extinguishing the problem. Not everyone believed he could do this, of course, but Corey didn’t care about the naysayers. He had enough satisfied clients that a bit of fun-poking from his skeptical friends didn’t bother him in the least.

But even with the clients who seemed to benefit from his holistic talents, he could only eliminate the effect, not the cause, so his curative efforts were usually temporary. People’s lives were complicated, and life in general was a brutal, unpredictable bitch who threw flaming shit-balls at folks when they least expected it. It was just the way of things, a truth which padded Corey’s bank account—a fortunate bonus to the satisfaction of being able to help others, however fleetingly, with their problems.

He glanced at the empty massage table, prone and readied with fresh sheets. Pacing across the floor of the spare bedroom where he conducted his work, he pondered whether or not to just shut off the soothing music and turn out the light, since it was starting to look like his client wasn’t coming.

Still unwilling to believe Leonard would just blow him off, he left the room as is, and moved to the kitchen with his phone. He could hear the shower running down the hallway—Zach, who’d once again spent the night, getting ready for work. Corey had hoped he’d be deep into his session with Leonard by the time Zach got out of the shower, so he wouldn’t have to converse with him before he left. Which was a pretty shitty thought to have about the young man who was supposed to be his boyfriend.

But things with Zach were becoming more complicated with each passing day, and Corey needed a break from the arguments and constant nagging.

His phone quacked like a duck, indicating an incoming text message. Corey frowned as he read Leonard’s words on the screen.

‘My son is here. Complications. Must cancel today. Apologies. Will pay for your time.’

Corey sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t give a shit if Leonard paid him or not, he was simply worried about the guy. Leonard’s grown children, a son and a daughter, were, in Corey’s opinion, part of the fuel that fed their father’s anxiety. But Leonard was a grown man, he would have to deal with his own issues; Corey’s healing massage sessions could only do so much, and he had no delusions that Leonard, or any of his clients’ lives would be saved by a few words of comfort and an hour rubdown every couple weeks.

Ah well. Corey Stengel, Super Masseur, cannot save the world today.

He startled when Zach stepped into the kitchen, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, his short dark hair still wet from the shower. Hey, Sexy, Zach said, flashing his gorgeous smile as he pulled open the fridge door, rifling around for a bottled water.

What are you doing?

Zach straightened and faced Corey as he uncapped the bottle. I’m getting a drink. What’s your problem?

My problem is that you’re walking around the house half-naked. You knew I had a client.

You always shut the door to the massage room when you’re working, Zach said. Besides, looks like your client isn’t here.

But he could have been, Corey said. I have enough trouble being taken seriously as a professional without naked boys wandering around here.

Chill out, Zach said. I thought you’d be in a better mood after that blowjob I gave you this morning. He smirked. "And I’m a man. A boy couldn’t make you come the way I do."

Zach took a drink, then leaned back against the counter, and Corey tried not to be distracted by all that exposed flesh. Zach was physically perfect: young, lean, and cut, with a face that could have graced magazine covers. And the little shit knew it, and used it to his advantage, wielding his sexuality as a weapon whenever Corey got irritated with him—which was often, as of late, with his constant jealousy, possessiveness, and the intense pressure he kept putting on Corey to let him move in.

Corey did love Zach. But lately, with Zach’s behavior what it was, he didn’t think cohabitation was a good idea. At least not until they sorted some shit out between them.

To avoid looking at Zach, Corey went to the window and gazed down at the backyard. Doug, his downstairs neighbor, was outside washing his car. Now there was a man. Corey absentmindedly watched Doug drag a sudsy rag across the hood of his car, those big brown eyes narrowed in a scowl of concentration. Doug was a mechanical engineer, and wore that serious scowl often as he went about his various projects. He was one of those hands-on guys that only seemed truly content when he had a problem to solve. Whether it was changing his oil or fixing a broken board on the front porch, Doug’s face always wore that stoic frown, like he was solving a complex mathematical equation or deciphering the mysteries of the universe.

Corey found it endearing, and smiled.

Though it was late September, the weather was still warm in Boston, and Doug wore jeans, and a faded gray tank top, his short brown hair slightly damp in the front with sweat. Corey had hated Doug when they first met, which had much to do with the fact Doug had just slept with Stewart, who was Corey’s live-in boyfriend at the time. But that was all in the past.

Stewart and Doug were together now, in a monogamous relationship, and Corey had made peace with it. But back then, though he and Stewart were in an open relationship—and he himself had been sleeping with Zach at the time—he’d known, the moment he met Doug Crandall, that it was all over. Doug wasn’t the sort of guy you slept with once and forgot. Doug was a guy you fell in love with, and Stewart had fallen hard.

What are you smiling at? Zach asked, coming up behind Corey and looking over his shoulder. He let out a derisive snort. "Oh. Him. Nice tank top. Could he try any harder to show off his body?"

Corey shrugged, ignoring Zach’s barb, eyes still cast down at the garage, and Doug, who circled his car with a hose now. Doug was a quiet, practical guy, and Corey knew that he had no interest in ‘showing off’ his body. He was simply a well-built man, but Zach had added him to the multitude of guys he assumed Corey wanted to sleep with, and therefore disliked him intensely. Corey did not want to sleep with Doug. He viewed him as a friend, and had come to value their conversations and time spent together. Though he did on occasion have dreams about Doug and Stewart...together...naked.

He couldn’t blame his subconscious for conjuring the images. He had been in love with Stewart for a long time, and Doug? Well, friend or not, the guy was smoking hot. It was a simple physical response that worked its way into his dreams. It wasn’t like he was about to call up his ex-boyfriend and ask if he could watch the two of them fuck some time, as a favor for old time’s sake.

In the waking world, Corey was faithful to Zach, and he didn’t want Doug Crandall or any other man. But at times, especially lately, he found himself wishing he had someone like Doug, a man he could have as a lover and also engage in deep conversations with, an equal. That was not Zach, he was finding out. He’d thought that committing to Zach, that pledging monogamy, would have eliminated the jealousy and clingy desperation his younger boyfriend had exhibited before, when Corey was still with Stewart. But if anything, Zach’s possessiveness had gotten worse, and it was starting to become oppressive.

Why are you always watching him? Zach asked, quite literally breathing down Corey’s neck.

I’m not watching him, Corey said. He’s just there. Part of the scenery. Like the rose bushes.

Yeah, right, Zach said. The rose bushes don’t get you hard. He reached around and palmed Corey’s soft cock through his pants.

Corey brushed his hand away and whirled around. Cut the shit, Zachary.

Zach held his hands up. Just trying to get friendly with my boyfriend.

Bullshit. I know what you’re doing, and I don’t like it. We talked about this.

Whether they were watching a film with hot guys in it, or happened to be around a man Zach felt Corey might be attracted to, he did this—suddenly reaching for Corey’s groin to test whether he was aroused or not. He used the excuse that he was trying to get frisky, but Corey knew what he was really doing—using Corey’s cock as a barometer to test his sexual fidelity. And it was pathetic.

Zach stepped back and removed his towel, revealing his swollen cock. I’m not doing that, I swear. I just want you. See?

Corey sighed, but his body responded to the sight of Zach naked. That Zach was hard was not necessarily evidence that he’d been pining for Corey as he claimed. Zach was young and insatiable, and was pretty much a walking boner most of the time.

Zach moved toward him and ran his hands down Corey’s chest. Corey felt himself weakening, and his dick began to stir. See? Zach said. It’s just you. All about you, baby. I can’t look at you without wanting you, he said, nibbling at Corey’s neck.

Fighting a battle between his annoyance and his budding arousal, Corey closed his eyes. This was what Zach did often. He knew that however irritated Corey was with him, he could always distract him and get him in the game this way. And while Corey still loved the sex, he was more than aware of what was happening. Zach was making a habit of manipulating him, and Corey had begun to lose all power in the relationship.

We had sex this morning, Corey said, opening his eyes.

So? Zach slid fingers up under Corey’s shirt, playing with his nipples. I want you again. Or is once a day what you feel you need to do to maintain me?

You have to go work at the bar, Corey said.

Not for a while yet. Zach’s hands traveled down and reached behind Corey, cupping his ass. Are you rejecting me?

Though Zach pressed his naked body into Corey and continued to lovingly knead his ass, his tone was sharp and accusatory, and his eyes held a challenge, that familiar unfriendly gleam that said anger was right around the corner if he didn’t get the response he was looking for.

Corey weighed his options. He needed to try again to have a serious talk with Zach soon, but knew if he brought it up now it would lead to a tantrum and ruin his night. But to placate Zach with sex was giving in to his manipulations once again. We need to talk about some things, Zach.

Zach’s hand slid off of Corey’s ass, around his hip, then palmed his cock...which had swelled considerably against his will. With the thin cotton pants he’d put on to do massage work, there was little barrier between his erection and Zach’s warm hand, and zings of pleasure made Corey’s ass tighten. I’d rather fuck than talk, Zach whispered. Feels like you would, too.

As he grew harder, so did his resolve to resist. Bottom line, Corey couldn’t think logically with a naked Zach pressed up against him, rubbing his groin, and smelling fresh and fragrant from his shower. You little shit, Corey said, finally grabbing Zach and pulling him in tightly against him. You’re lucky you’re so damn hot.

Zach grinned. "I’m also lucky you’re so damn hot."

Attempting to gain back some of his control, Corey crouched down, and gripping Zach’s thighs, spread them wider and licked a line up the seam of his scrotum, a tactic he knew made his boyfriend crazy with arousal. It had the desired effect, as Zach whimpered and his legs wobbled, hands gripping Corey’s head for balance. Corey continued to tongue Zach’s sac with precision, satisfied with the helpless sounds he heard in response. This—controlling Zach’s body, his pleasure, was where Corey excelled. This is where I rule, he thought smugly as Zach’s breath came out in hard pants.

No, Zach said in a strained whisper as Corey repeated the act, dragging the tip of his tongue along the sensitive line of skin. I want to be the one to work you into a frenzy this time. Corey, stop.

Casting his eyes upward, Corey nuzzled Zach’s groin. You already did. You gave me head this morning, or did you forget?

Only...ah, shit, Zach gasped as Corey went back to tonguing him. "Only after you got me off screaming, I want to be the one to make you helpless for a change."

Corey rose and grabbed Zach by his bare ass, lifting him off the floor and walking them toward the living room. You’ve got too many rules, kid, he said as he carried him. Just shut up and let it happen naturally.

Zach whined in protest, but he clung to Corey’s shoulders, burying his nose in his neck. Corey stopped when they reached the living room couch, and dropped Zach down onto his back.

Zach’s heated gaze watched as Corey removed his own clothes, peeling them off slowly until he was completely nude, then he positioned himself on his knees between his boyfriend’s parted thighs. Staring down, Corey held his lover’s gaze as he used his thumb and index finger to pinch the center of Zach’s cock. Sliding his other hand beneath his sac, he stroked the soft patch of skin beneath his balls, teasing just along the edge of his asshole.

Not fair, Zach said, squeezing his eyes shut as his chest rose and fell with each breath. "I’m supposed to be seducing you."

You are. Corey continued the double assault with his fingers, working those magic spots he knew always hit the mark with Zach. You started this. Now let me finish it.

You know I come fast like this...you’re trying to get me off quick so you can be done with me.

Corey gritted his teeth, annoyance trying to muscle down his arousal. Stop making everything a battle. He released Zach and straightened up on his knees. What do you want?

I want to fuck.

Corey reached for the coffee table drawer and dragged it open. Since Zach had moved in, Corey had taken to planting condoms and lube all over the apartment. I wasn’t that he and Stewart hadn’t had an active sex life, but with Zach...Corey never knew when the kid was gonna tackle him, and where.

You don’t need a condom, Zach said, sitting up.

Don’t start, Corey said. If you want to do this, don’t initiate an argument, especially one we’ve had a hundred times.

Corey glanced down, pleased to see his erection was not ebbing despite Zach’s whining. He quickly tore open the condom and rolled it onto himself.

We’ve been tested, Zach said. I don’t get why you don’t want to bring us closer.

And I’ve been with a lot of guys, Corey said as he lubed himself up. Better safe than sorry, Zach. It’s not you I’m worried about.

It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it as soon as it left his lips. Zach had a very specific frown and lip twitch whenever Corey’s sexual past was brought up in conversation. But it was the one thing Corey wouldn’t budge on—not only the condoms, but giving in and coddling Zach’s jealousy in this matter. Zach had, after all, been part of Corey’s promiscuous past. He’d known who and what he was getting when he chose Corey.

I want to be on top, Zach said. The request came with an upturned chin, a challenge in his eyes, like he was pulling a final weapon from his sadly depleted arsenal.

Fine, Corey said. Works for me. He offered Zach a warm smile, because the conversation was swiftly becoming far too cold and clinical for a couple guys discussing how they would proceed with their sexual relations.

Zach’s frown lasted a moment longer, then melted into a grin. He stood, and Corey took his place, lying back on the couch. As Zach straddled him, he said, Arms back, over your head. And no touching me.

Corey complied, stretching his arms back, but he gave Zach a questioning look. This was new. You don’t want me to touch you?

Zach guided Corey to his hole, rubbing the head of his cock against it. No using your magic tricks to make me come faster this time, he said, then eased down, bringing a hard breath from Corey as he breached Zach’s tight entrance. I’m gonna go as slow as I want, and I’m gonna bring you over just by squeezing your dick in my ass. With that, he slid down to the base, taking Corey fully inside him.

Corey’s cock swelled and pulsed as Zach’s heat engulfed him. Fuck, he said. That dirty talk is kind of working on me, baby. He nearly reached up and grabbed Zach’s ass, then remembered his instructions, and rested his arms back over his head.

Clearly Corey’s affirmation pleased Zach, and he smiled fully, then rose up, and back down, stopping half way this time and clenching. Look at me, he said when Corey closed his eyes, sighing with pleasure.

Corey opened his eyes. Zach’s palms rested on his chest, his face close. Are you looking at me? Zach asked softly.

You’re the only one here, Corey said, lifting his hips to get deeper.

Zach began to move, sliding up and down, stopping to clench every third time, and it was working on Corey, making him harder and sending waves of pleasure through him, tightening his balls. What if I wasn’t here? Zach asked.

Corey grunted as Zach dropped down on him, then frowned through the dizzying pleasure. What the hell does that mean?

Do you think about me when you masturbate? Zach asked breathily, increasing his speed and rhythm.

For Christ sakes, Zach. With you around I don’t need to masturbate.

Are you focusing on me? Thinking of me? Not anyone else? Zach rode him harder, making their flesh slap loudly as he snapped his hips.

My dick’s in your ass, Corey said, his voice strained. Who else would I be thinking about? He closed his eyes as the friction of Zach’s pounding called his orgasm to the edge of his senses, knocking at the door.

Open your eyes, Zach commanded.

Corey did. Okay, pushy little shit.

"Look at me. Don’t go somewhere else in your head when I’m fucking you."

Corey frowned, but his hips continued to lift as Zach rode him, his body oblivious to the shift in his mind. What the hell are you talking about?

Zach straightened, removing his hands from Corey’s chest. He leaned back, one arm behind him, and moved his hips in a circle, bringing a groan from Corey. Corey kept his eyes on Zach’s for fear he’d get yelled at again, watching a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. I want your mind on me, only me, Zach said. I don’t want you thinking about Stewart. Or Doug. Or any other guys. You’re not thinking about them, are you?

Corey abruptly reached up and grabbed Zach’s arm, pulling him down. Zach’s undulating hips stopped moving, and he panted as he looked into Corey’s eyes, their faces close. What the hell are you playing at? Corey asked.

You’re not thinking about them, are you? Zach asked. Stewart or Doug?

"Well I wasn’t! Corey let go of Zach’s wrist, shoving it away. But if you keep talking about them, I’m going to start!"

Fuck you, Corey! Zach climbed off of him, Corey’s cock sliding out of him. He stood alongside the couch, sneering down at Corey. Fuck you!

No, fuck you, Zach. Corey grabbed him and pulled him down, then wrestled him over onto his back, using his knees to spread his legs. You’re being ridiculous and this shit has to stop.

Get off me. Zach pushed weakly at his shoulders. I don’t want you.

Yes you do. Corey grabbed his chin when Zach tried to turn his face away. You want me. So cut the shit and let me fuck you.

Zach’s expression was still tight with anger, but he remained silent, staring back at him. When Corey reached down and lined the head of his cock up, pressing it against his entrance, Zach sighed and wrapped his legs around him. I hate you sometimes, Zach said as Corey pushed into him.

I know. Corey pulled back and drove into him hard, bringing a gasp. And you need to stop, or this isn’t gonna work.

I just feel like—

Corey kissed him hard, bruising his lips and driving his tongue deep. He pulled back briefly. Shut your mouth, Zach, he said, then went in again, kissing him savagely while he plunged into his ass hard and fast, not giving him a chance to think.

Soon Zach was making helpless, mewling sounds, his heels digging into the back of Corey’s thighs while he lifted his hips, forcing him in deeper. Corey felt Zach’s orgasm shudder through him. He doubled his rhythm, riding it while Zach’s channel clenched around his cock. When Zach’s lips tore from his so he could cry out in bliss, Corey let his own climax go.

When he finally collapsed onto Zach’s sweat-soaked body, his heartbeat slowing, he knew one thing. Zach’s jealousy was officially out of control, and he had to talk to him about it, today, before he left for work. It was working its way into their sex life now, and that was just too much.

I love you, Zach said drowsily, fingers stroking Corey’s bare back.

Corey climbed off of him and stood alongside the couch, wiping his brow. We need to talk, he said as he pulled his shirt on.

You’re supposed to say, ‘I love you, too, Zach’ when I tell you I love you.

I do love you. But we need to talk. Today. I’ll be right back. Corey went to the bathroom and dealt with the condom, peeing and cleaning himself up. When he returned to the living room, Zach was still naked, leaning against the edge of the couch, watching him.

We need to talk, Corey said again as he tugged on his pants.

About what? Zach crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Corey glanced at him. You know about what. Can you put some clothes on?

Zach rolled his eyes and moved off down the hallway. He returned momentarily, still shirtless, but wearing the black slacks he wore for bartending. Slumping