Just My Luck

Just My Luck

By Cassandra Gold

"Damn it!" Greg Reynolds pounded the steering wheel of his 1989 Taurus in frustration. He'd known his car was on its last legs, but he'd been hoping it would last until the new year. Obviously that wasn't going to happen, however, given the stupid thing wouldn't start. He looked around, not seeing anyone. All the businesses across the street were dark. At eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, the whole neighborhood looked dark and empty. Most people were probably already at home, celebrating with their families. He popped the Taurus' hood and got out. Despite his complete lack of anything resembling mechanical skills, he lifted the heavy hood to peer in at the engine. His breath made little clouds

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in the frigid air as he stared down at the collection of parts, half of which he couldn't identify. Why he was bothering to look at all was a mystery. He didn't know what was wrong with the car or how to find out, but he had no idea what else to do. Of course this would happen on the day he’d forgotten his cell phone. Sighing, he leaned against the front of the car. It was going to be a long walk to the nearest pay phone, if he was lucky enough to find one in the age of cell phones and OnStar. He heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow behind him. He tensed, aware of how deserted the area was, until a voice asked, "Need some help?" Greg relaxed. He didn't have to turn to know who the voice belonged to. Seth Whitney. Seth owned the coffee shop next door to Well Read, the bookstore where Greg worked. He'd been lusting after the man ever since he first saw Seth four months ago. But who wouldn't? Seth was about thirty, tall and slim but well-built, with eyes and hair the color of dark chocolate and a killer smile. It wasn't only his appearance that Greg admired. He'd seen many examples of Seth's kindness as well, like the times Seth sat and chatted with elderly customers even though he had other things he needed to do. Seth probably had other things he needed to do now, too. Greg sighed. "I'm fine, but I think my car could use some help." Seth laughed. "Unfortunately, that's not one of my skills." "It's not one of mine, either." Greg looked glumly down at the engine for a minute before closing the hood. "Do you have a cell phone I can borrow? I'll have to get a tow truck." Seth's horrified expression told Greg what he thought of the idea. "On Christmas Eve? It could take a while. How about I give you a ride?" Reflex made Greg say, "I can't ask you to do that." Seth was having none of his protest, though. "You didn't ask, I offered. It's no trouble. I don't have any plans or anything." "Okay, then. Thanks." Greg grabbed the few things he needed from his car, locked the doors, and followed Seth to the other end of the parking lot. *** The drive to Greg's apartment complex took about fifteen minutes. He felt nervous and tonguetied being so close to Seth, but the other man quickly put him at ease by asking him about school. He found himself going into detail about his graduate studies in British and American literature before he caught himself. He could go on all day if given the chance, but he had learned from experience that his interests weren't always interesting to everybody else. "I'm sorry. I'm probably boring you. Once I get started on literature, I get carried away."

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"You weren't boring me. What are you going to do with your degree?" Seth sounded sincerely interested, which surprised Greg. He was used to people's eyes glazing over when he started talking. "I'd like to get my doctorate someday. Until then, I'll keep working at Well Read and try to get a job teaching a class or two at the university, if I can." "I think you can. It sounds like you really know your stuff." Greg's face heated at the admiration in Seth's voice. He'd always been shy, and compliments embarrassed him. He was grateful for the darkness of the car, and for the appearance of his apartment building. Seth turned into the parking lot and pulled into a space. "Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it." Greg started to get out of the car. Before he could, a fire engine pulled around the other side of the building, siren wailing and lights flashing. Several people emerged from the building and gathered on the sidewalk. They'd obviously left in a hurry. Some were dressed normally, others wore pajamas, and only a few wore coats. "Looks like there's a fire or something. I'll stay here while you check it out." Seth put the car into park, giving Greg a stern look when he started to say that wasn't necessary. Greg closed his mouth on the denial and got out of the car. He approached the huddled knot of tenants. His neighbor Marcy was one of them. Her flannel pajamas covered in tiny winged pigs, bright pink chenille robe, and the mud mask on her face told him she had been in the middle of one of her evening spa rituals. "What's going on, Marce?" "There's a fire in one of the apartments. I'm not sure how bad it is." She scowled. "I wish it would have happened before I put this stuff on my face. What if a hot fireman sees me?" Stifling a laugh, Greg eyed her green face. "I'm sure he'll see your inner beauty." "Shut up." The laugh slipped out, and soon they were both chuckling. She smiled. "Okay, I guess it is pretty funny." They all waited there for a few minutes, huddled in a tight circle against the bitter cold. Finally, a tall, attractive fireman approached the small group. He looked right at Marcy, who cringed and ducked her head as if to hide the goop on her face, and he smiled for a second before sobering. "The fire is out, but it caused some major problems with the electrical system for the whole building. None of you will be able to stay here until it's fixed, which will probably be at least few days at this time of year." The news hit Greg like a blow. Any urge to laugh at Marcy's predicament fled. He groaned and

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put his head in his hands. Isn't this just my luck? First his car, and now his home, were gone on Christmas Eve. The worst part was he didn't have anywhere else to go. He hadn't spoken to his parents since they’d found out he was gay and basically disowned him, his friends were all home visiting their families, and he couldn't spare the cash for a hotel room. Could this evening get any worse? "What's wrong?" Seth's voice came from behind him. He raised his head. "The fire's out, but so is the electricity." "You can't stay here, then. It's too cold." Thank you, Captain Obvious. Greg struggled to hide the frustration and depression threatening to overwhelm him. None of this was Seth's fault, and he shouldn't take his bad luck out on the guy. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. "Yeah, that's what the fireman told us. I'll have to go inside and get some stuff, but I'm sure Marcy will give me a ride. You go on home. I've caused you enough trouble for one night." "I can take you wherever you need to go, Greg. I'm already here." "It might take me a while to get my stuff." He tried to sound as discouraging as he could, hoping Seth would just go. He really didn't want the current object of his fantasies to know he had nowhere to go. The man already knew he was a geek with a crappy car, which was bad enough. If Seth knew he was now a homeless geek with a crappy car, he might have to lie down in the snow and see if it was possible to die of embarrassment. Seth frowned. "If you want me to get lost, just say so." He actually sounded hurt. Marcy, who must have been listening to their conversation, elbowed him in the side, hard, and walked off. Her feelings on the subject were clear even without words: he was being an idiot. And he was making Seth feel bad. Greg sighed. "I don't want you to get lost. I'm acting like a jerk. I'm sorry." Seth's dark eyes met his, concerned. "If you tell me what's going on, maybe I can help." "I don't have anywhere to go." Saying it out loud made him feel even worse. He hung his head, ashamed. Seth gave him a slow smile. "Sure you do. Let's go get your stuff. You're staying with me." *** Thirty minutes later, Greg followed Seth into a cozy ranch-style house. His host showed him to a tiny bedroom. "You can use the guest room. Sorry it's so small. I used the bigger spare bedroom

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for my office." Did Seth think he would whine about the size of the room when he could have been sleeping in his broken-down car? "I'm not complaining. It's got heat and a bed. That's enough for me." Seth grinned. "Wow, you're easy to please. What would you say if I had holiday cookies, too?" Greg rubbed his chin, pretending to ponder the question. "That depends -- did you make them?" "Yep." "In that case, I'd say this evening is looking up." Greg loved the baked goods from the coffee shop. Unfortunately, he couldn't afford to indulge himself very often. Laughing, the other man led the way to the kitchen. When Greg was seated at the table, Seth brought a tin of cookies over. He set them down and went to the stove. "Aren't you having any?" "In a minute. I'm going to make us some hot cocoa first." Cookies and hot cocoa? If it hadn't been for the death of his car and the temporary loss of his apartment, he'd be thinking this was the best night ever. "Homemade?" "There's no other kind, as far as I'm concerned." Seth gathered up his ingredients and began warming milk in a pan. Greg watched Seth at work. His competence and assurance were strangely arousing. Greg couldn't help imagining the slim, strong hands currently stirring the cocoa gripping something other than a spoon. Or Seth bending him over the table and taking him while the cocoa cooled... To Greg's humiliation, he found himself getting hard. His face felt hot, and he hoped he wasn't blushing. How pathetic could he get? He hadn't had a boyfriend in so long he got a hard-on over a guy stirring cocoa. Seemingly oblivious to his guest's inner turmoil, Seth poured the cocoa into two mugs. "Want whipped cream on yours?" "Definitely. I love whipped cream." Greg seized on the conversation as a distraction from his thoughts. His host brought the two mugs over to the table, placed one in front of Greg, and sat down in the chair nearest to his. He also opened the cookie tin, snagging a decorated sugar cookie and taking a big bite. Greg took a cookie as well, and for a few minutes they ate and drank in companionable silence. He noticed Seth looking over at him several times, but he focused on his cocoa, pretending not to see.

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Suddenly, Seth leaned forward and brushed his thumb across Greg's lower lip. "You have some whipped cream on your lip." Before he thought about what he was doing, Greg put his tongue out and licked Seth's thumb. Seth froze. Realizing what he'd done, Greg stilled, his face hot enough to catch fire. Why, why, why did I do that? Seth removed his hand slowly, staring at Greg. There was silence for a long, tense moment. All he wanted to do was get up and run away. He was about to do just that when Seth spoke. "Tell me if I'm out of line here, but I've been dying to ask you out ever since you started working at Well Read. I didn't because... well, I never saw you with anyone, so I didn't know if you'd want a guy asking you out." Greg gaped at Seth. He couldn't believe the guy he'd been practically obsessing over for months had wanted to ask him out. He was a short, skinny, twenty-three-year-old graduate student with glasses and a menial job. What could a hot, successful man like Seth possibly see in him? Before he could censor himself, he blurted out, "Why?" Seth's brow creased. "Why what? Why did I want to ask you out?" At Greg's nod, he continued, "At first it was because I thought you were cute, but after I talked to you a few times, I really wanted to get to know you better. When I saw you standing by your car tonight, I hoped I'd finally get a chance to do that." Greg smiled, thrilled beyond belief. Seth thought he was cute. "If you had asked me out, I would've said yes." Feeling daring, he stuck his finger into his whipped cream and painted Seth’s bottom lip with it. "Oh, no. Now you have whipped cream on your lip." "Do I? Uh-oh." Seth's eyes glittered with amusement. "Yep. I guess I'd better do something about that." Instead of wiping the sweet cream off with his thumb as Seth had done, Greg moved forward until they were close enough to kiss. Keeping his eyes locked on Seth’s, he licked the smear off with a long, slow swipe of his tongue. Those deep brown eyes flared, and Greg found himself tugged out of his chair and onto Seth's lap, opening for an urgent kiss. Their tongues tangled together. He threaded his hands into the soft, dark hair he'd been longing to touch for months and held on. One kiss turned into two, then three. Strong, firm hands ran down his back. One moved around to trace up his chest. He shivered as those long, slim fingers brushed his nipple. Noticing his reaction, Seth slipped a hand beneath Greg's sweater and brushed the tiny bud again. He moaned and arched toward the touch, breaking the kiss. Seth took quick advantage, sliding his mouth along Greg's jaw and down his neck. Greg retaliated by attacking the buttons on Seth’s shirt. He managed to undo them and yanked

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the shirt free of Seth's slacks, leaving his hands free to roam over all the warm, smooth skin he'd uncovered. "God, Greg," Seth choked out as Greg ran his tongue experimentally over a small, flat nipple. "Like that? What about this?" Grinning, he wiggled on Seth's lap, teasing. "I'm not sure. You'll have to do it again so I can decide." Laughing, he obliged by moving again. This time he ground his ass slowly and firmly against Seth's erection, wringing a groan from him. "Still having trouble deciding?" "No, I definitely like it." Seth drew him in for a quick, hard kiss before grabbing the hem of his sweater and pulling it over his head. "Let's see if you like it, too." Greg gasped as Seth's tongue traced a circle around his nipple. When Seth started to suck, he felt the sensation all the way down to his cock, which was so hard it almost ached. All he could think about was how very much he wanted this man. He could feel the button of Seth's slacks against his hip, so he shifted away and reached for it. Seth pulled back, breathing hard. "We should stop. I'm not a sex on the first date kind of guy." Greg wasn't either, but this felt like an exception to the rule. "Me neither, but I'm staying at your house. That's got to count as at least three dates." There was a moment of uncertainty in Seth's eyes, but then they cleared. He grinned. "At least. Bedroom?" Peering at Seth through his lashes, Greg murmured, "Well... While you were making the cocoa I was imagining you bending me over the table." "Wait here." Seth moved Greg off his lap and practically ran out of the room. He returned mere moments later, carrying a bottle of lubricant and a condom. Greg laughed. "I guess you liked the idea." Seth smiled, but didn't answer. Instead, he unfastened Greg's jeans. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he slid them down, along with Greg's boxers. Greg stepped out of them, kicked them away, and stood there naked. When Seth stood again, he removed his own clothing. Greg felt a little nervous standing there, at least until he was drawn in for another kiss. The hard cock pressing into his stomach made him forget about everything else. He rubbed against it for a moment, but then he broke the kiss and took the condom from Seth's hand. He opened the foil packet and rolled the condom onto Seth's erection. Then he turned and put his hands flat on the table, gazing over his shoulder at his soon-to-be lover with what he hoped was a seductive look.

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It must have worked, because Seth moved behind him and trailed kisses over his shoulders and back. "I can't believe how sexy you look bent over my table." There was a little snap as Seth opened the lube, and then slick fingers were trailing down Greg’s cleft. His hiss of pleasure became a gasp as two long, slim fingers entered him. "Seth, come on," Greg begged, pushing back toward the other man, desperate. It had been way too long, and he didn't want to wait. He whimpered in disappointment when the fingers withdrew, but after a few seconds, he felt the blunt head of Seth's cock at his entrance. Seth tried to take things slowly, but Greg wasn't in the mood for slow. He pushed back until he could feel Seth's thighs against the backs of his own. Seth was almost panting when he finally spoke. "You okay?" Sure he was fine, in an I'm going to die if you don't move right now kind of way. "Fine, as soon as you start moving." Seth let out a soft laugh and started thrusting. The first hard thrust made Greg whimper and shiver at the delicious friction. Then Seth gripped his hips and tilted his ass up just a bit until each long stroke sent his cock brushing across Greg's prostate. "God, Seth, that's so good." Greg threw his head back and moved with his lover, unable to believe how incredible it felt. He started to reach for his own cock, but Seth beat him to it, his grip firm and sure. Greg closed his eyes, the combined pleasure of Seth moving inside him and stroking his erection almost too much to bear. After only a few minutes, he felt his orgasm approaching. He came with a low cry, opening his eyes as semen painted his chest and stomach as well as Seth's hand. His inner muscles clenched as he came. Seth gave a final hard thrust and came moments later, crying out Greg's name. Afterward, Seth leaned his cheek against Greg's back. Greg clutched the table, dazed from the intense pleasure he'd experienced. They stood like that for several minutes, both breathing hard. Then Seth withdrew and went to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he turned Greg to face him and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "I don't do one night stands." He met Greg's eyes, his expression a mixture of tender, hopeful, and anxious. Greg reached up to stroke Seth's cheek. "I don't either." Seth leaned into the touch, smiling. "Good. Let's go to bed. Santa won't bring us anything if we don't go to sleep." With a sly wink, he took Greg's hand and led the way toward his bedroom. "I like that plan, but I think Santa's already brought me what I wanted." Greg was happy to follow, savoring the feeling of Seth's hand in his. So what if his car had died, and he couldn't stay

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at his place for a few days? He'd be staying with Seth -- right where he wanted to be. Just my luck. He smiled.

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Just My Luck Copyright © 2009 by Cassandra Gold All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / December 2009 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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